And My Alias Is
by The Dark Shark
Summary: [AU] Suze Simon was a mediator, before she lost her gift. Yet she's still living a double life, now working as a spy for the CIA. But when her gift returns, is she living... a triple life?
1. Page 1

**Los Angeles**

The building looked as ordinary as any other buildings on the block.

It was a 9-story grey rectangular piece, covered with tinted glass windows and a sign on the pathway to the main entrance that identified the building as 'Kent Advertisings, Inc,'. The time was 8.15 am on a regular Monday morning, and there were people milling around the lobby preparing to start a normal day at work.

Just like me, only I'm heading to a new workplace, and there's nothing normal about my day at work.

Ignoring the rampaging butterflies in my stomach, I drove my Honda City towards the basement, pausing to swipe my new ID card at the electronic check-in before entering the parking lot.

The parking lot was lit with fluorescent lights and dotted with a few other vehicles. I parked at the end of the lot, away from the other cars. After locking my car, I made my way to the building block where the lifts were.

I found the lifts easily enough, but I didn't enter it. Instead, I walked straight to the end of the floor and turned right to a small corner, where there was a door marked 'Janitor' on the near wall. Besides the door, there was a small electronic pad with two tiny lights at the side. One of the lights were red, the other white.

Using the same ID card that I had used to enter the basement, I swiped at the pad, and instantly the two lights turned green, and the door slid open silently. I waited until the door was opened all the way before entering into the darkness.

Unlike a normal janitor's closet, this room was large enough to fit at least 3 people in it, and it was completely bare. There was an outline of a door on the wall opposite of me, but there was no handle. Once the door behind me was shut, the room became illuminated with green light. I stood completely still in the middle of the room for exactly 2 seconds before there was a white flash, and the opposite door slid open, like the previous one.

I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes from the white flash into the dimly lit corridor ahead of me. Then I realized with a startle that there was a guard sitting on a chair just beside the lift door. He nodded at me, and I nodded right back, my heart racing.

Taking a deep breath, I walked down the corridor until I came to a door that automatically opened, undoubtedly equipped with a motion sensor.

Although everything went exactly as the described in the briefing I was given last Friday – except for the guard, I wasn't told he would be situated there - it still didn't lessen the pounding in my heart as I stepped into the unfamiliar cavern – okay, office – and looked around to assess my surroundings.

I was standing at the edge of what looked like a normal office floor, except it was in a large basement floor with pretty much nonexistent decor. The walls were grey, like the outside, and there were about 20 people sitting at their desks or walking around doing important things. Most of them looked like they've been here all night, and I wouldn't exactly bet against that. The desks were separated by semi-transparent glass about 4 feet high, and at the end of the office, there was a row of rooms, one of them also covered with the same semi-transparent glass.

Uncertain of where to go, I took a few steps forward so that I wouldn't look like a fool just standing there when I saw an older man in a smart black suit striding towards me. He couldn't have been more than 60, yet his head was covered with thick white hair, ala-Richard Gere.

'You must be the new agent,' he said in a pleasant voice.

'Susannah Simon,' I introduced myself, shaking his hand. 'You can call me Suze.'

'Albert Dominic, Director of DN-9, and you can call me Dominic. Did you have problems getting here?' His blue eyes were kind, not as I expected the chief of a Central Intelligence Agency division would be like.

'Oh no, not at all,' I answered as he led me towards the row of rooms at the back. I was aware of a few glances towards us as we walked, but I pretended not to notice.

No way was I admitting that I was really, really nervous.

Weird how I had never been nervous sneaking into buildings and fighting with bad guys, yet I was anxious about working in a new office.

The room at the far end of the row was the one we entered, and I found out that it was Dominic aka my new boss's office. It was also bleakly grey with the necessary things like a desk and chairs available, but no decorations or any personal memento, save from a framed picture of a woman on his desk. He gestured for me to sit down on one of the two chairs in front of his uncluttered desk, and pressed a button on the black phone in front of me, saying, 'She's here, you can come in now.'

I tried to make myself look uninterested about who he just asked to come to his office, and instead looked at the framed picture. The woman appeared to be around her 40s, with long auburn hair and gentle blue eyes, and she was laughing at whoever was taking her picture.

Dominic picked up a grey file on his desk and handed it to me, not saying anything even though he saw me looking at the picture. Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, and I felt a little guilty yet also curious about whom the woman was.

Maybe it was his wife? His sister?

"That's the floor plan and the structure for the departments in this office, Susannah. Do you mind if I call you Susannah? I'm not so used to these modern names that everyone seems to have nowadays,' he said, a rueful smile on his face.

Relieved that he wasn't mad about me staring point blank at that picture, I said, 'Sure.'

Besides, he's, um, old and I'm sure he thought a name like Suze is weird. Like the other day, I was flipping through a magazine and there's this young new actress whose name was Alexiea Compton. Seriously. What's so bad about just Alex or Alicia?

I was about to ask him about the other officers in this division when there was a knock on his office door. He said 'Come in' and the person entered the room.

My first thought - I'm ashamed to admit - was, boy, he's hot.

The man was the living definition of tall, dark and handsome, because he really _was_…tall, dark and handsome. He looked to be around his 30s, with some Spanish blood if his coloring was any indication, and his dark hair was short and neat. The beige suit he had on fitted him perfectly, like he was born wearing it.

But it was his eyes that grabbed my attention from the get go – hypnotic pools of shadows, like beautiful black ink.

Now I know why I haven't met a single hot agent in all these years I've worked for the CIA. It's because all of them had combined to compose this man in front of me.

'Susannah, I'd like you to meet Jesse de Silva, a fellow officer here in DN-9,' Dominic introduced him.

I stood up, and even then he still felt too tall. He smiled politely at me and held out his hand, which was large and warm and made me feel a bit goosebump-y as I shook it, but in a nice way.

'Pleasure to meet you, Susannah,' Jesse de Silva said in a deep, smooth voice as he gazed at me, and the room suddenly felt toasty, even though it was cool a moment ago.

Get a grip, Suze, for God's sakes.

'Likewise,' I managed to croak out a word, my voice sounding like an 8-year-old's.

He didn't seem to notice though, and just continued to smile politely at me. Have I mentioned that his face has a really nice bone structure? I mean, they actually looked like they were sculpted by an artist.

I smiled back, my face a little flushed, and there was an awkward silence as we looked at each other.

Was I supposed to say something?

But Dominic solved the problem by asking both of us to sit down, and we did.

'Susannah, as of now, Jesse will be your partner. Jesse, you already know this,' Dominic looked at Jesse, who nodded, before looking back at me. 'Jesse's previous partner was transferred to Langley. Have you worked with a partner before?'

I was still processing the information that this extremely good-looking specimen was going to be my partner, so it took a good second for me to understand Dominic's question.

When I finally did, I answered in a rush, 'Yes, I have. I used to have a partner, Aaron Dallas back when I was placed in Langley. Then last year I worked with Sydney Bristow at APO, but she wasn't my partner, more like a mentor to me and I followed her on several missions before she became too pregnant and had to stay at the office. After that I followed the officer who was Sydney's partner, Marcus Dixon and another officer, Eric Weiss, on a few other missions but I wasn't on the field. I was just placed as the communicator and also at the extraction point. So I would say…yes, I've had a partner but not recently.'

There was a very silent _silence_.

Dominic looked at me, and I could feel Jesse's stare from where he was sitting beside me. I felt myself starting to blush, and I realized how foolish I must have sounded, babbling like that. But I couldn't help it! I always prattle on whenever I'm really nervous, which was exactly how I was feeling at the moment.

'Thank you, Susannah. I have your file, you have no need to explain anything,' Dominic said with that kind smile of his, but I didn't feel any better. In fact, I suddenly felt incompetent.

'Of course,' I said unnecessarily.

'Now, Susannah, I'm sure you know the protocols of working in a CIA division, especially since you've worked at APO, which basically had the same premise as our section. Here at DN-9, we have several other officers who are able to go on field missions, but our priority would be for the two of you. The others are here mostly for extraction and backups. Your job will entail mostly paperwork, until there is an order from Langley for a new mission, where you will take part in. Do you have any questions?'

'No,' I told Dominic, who then nodded like he expected me to say no and said, 'Alright then. Jesse will show you to your desk and if there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to inform me.'

I stood up and confirmed that I would, before walking out the office, Jesse holding the door open for me.

I smiled to myself, more due to relief after surviving meeting my boss without making too much of a mess, rather than realizing that I will be working with a gorgeous partner.

At least, that's what I told myself.

'So Susannah –' Jesse began as he fell into steps beside me, but I cut him off without even thinking about it.

'Call me Suze.'

He paused and looked at me for a second, before saying, 'Would you mind if I stick with Susannah?'

What was this, first Dominic, now Jesse, will the whole of DN-9 start calling me Susannah now? I mean, I don't have anything against my name – not much – but does Agent Susannah Simon or Agent Suze Simon sounds tougher to you?

Of course it's Suze. I mean, the 'Z' in it is enough to bump up my name from 'ordinary' to 'gangsta'.

'Well, I prefer you to call me Suze. Why, what's wrong with Suze? It's short, it saves time and effort.' Plus, the whole gangsta thing.

He shrugged. 'Nothing is wrong. I just think it sounds a little… vulgar.'

_Whaaat?_

I stared at him, completely not believing what I just heard. '_Vulgar?_ When were you born, 1830? Since when is a perfectly good nickname vulgar?'

'I didn't see you protesting when Dominic called you Susannah,' he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. I noticed the raised eyebrow had a white scar through it, and I would have asked him if he got that on one of his previous missions, if I wasn't actually starting to get mad at him.

'He's different. He's my boss, I can't say no to him. Besides, he said he's not used to modern names,' I said in Dominic's defense, which was strange, because I just met him. But there was something about him which made me feel… comfortable.

Unlike the person I'm talking to right now.

'Maybe he thinks Suze sounds vulgar too,' Jesse said, sounding amused.

'He does not!' I protested. Jeez, what was this guy's problem? 'He's just old, okay. The name Susannah probably was popular back when he was a teenager, so he likes the sentimental value or… something.'

Oh, I'm totally making perfect sense. Not.

'So he can call you Susannah, but I cannot. Am I right in saying that you have a double standard?' Jesse said in this tone that made me uncertain if he was being serious, or if he was just playing with me.

Somehow, I had a feeling it was the latter. Which did not, in any way, made me feel better.

I had no idea why I was feeling irritated over such a small thing. I mean, why couldn't I just let him call me Susannah? I was picking a fight where it's so unwarranted.

I guess I was just a little offended that he said my name was vulgar. Come on, that was _beyond_ ridiculous. And the fact that he said I had a double standard, which I so do not.

Right?

'I thought partners are supposed to listen and compromise with each other,' I said heatedly, although I made sure my voice was low so that we would not attract undue attention as we walked across the large office. 'So why is it so hard for you to listen to me when I ask you to call me Suze?'

'Well, partners are not supposed to order each other around. And isn't that what you are doing…ordering me?'

Groaning inwardly, I said, 'I am not ordering you. I'm _requesting_ that you call me Suze.'

'Requests can be denied. _Susannah_.' He was smiling now. Not with me, but _at _me, a definite sign that he was making fun of me.

I glared at him. 'Is this why your partner left you for Langley? Because of your fixation with his name? Her name?'

We were now standing in front of a desk that I assumed was mine, because it was empty apart from the worn-looking computer on top of it. But instead of telling me that as I expected, Jesse suddenly looked angry, his smile all but gone.

'Gerrard had to be transferred because he became permanently injured from a mission and was forced to take a desk job. He is a fine officer and has served this country well, even now, with his injury. And in all the times that I've known him, he had been a cooperative partner, and he certainly did not mention anything about my so-called fixation,' Jesse elaborated, his previously amused tone now sounding clipped.

The atmosphere was toasty again, but not for the same reason as before. I sure as hell wasn't thinking about how hot he was now. But I certainly was hot. I meant that literally, because I could feel sweat forming on my palms from the discomfort of where this conversation seemed to be heading.

Really, I felt bad for Gerrard, whoever he was and I was sure that he was – and is - a great agent. But would my massive pride allowed me to admit that? No. And was Jesse implying that I was an uncooperative partner? What the heck did he know about me to make such rash judgments?

So instead of backing down, I challenged, 'So you're saying that I should be a replica of Gerrard?'

His dark eyes flashed. Uttering his words slowly and concisely, he said, 'No. But you could show some _respect_.'

My face burned.

'Oh, I have respect, all right,' I snapped, feeling like I was in a freaking kindergarten being scolded by a teacher. 'I have respect for Gerrard, and for Dominic. I can't say anyone else I've met deserve my _respect_.'

Jesse stared at me, his expression unreadable. But I could see his jaw clenched, and I felt a mixture of white-hot anger and mounting regret over what I said.

I swallowed, thinking that I was so screwed for fighting with my partner the first moment I was alone with him.

But I didn't start all of this, okay? He did, with all his stupid refusals.

Before Jesse could form a reply, I said, 'From now on, unless there's any missions we have to carry out, let's stay out of each others' business, shall we?'

I'd like to think I was being tough, but I noticed my voice didn't sound as hard as it did before.

'Fine,' he replied.

'Fine,' I repeated.

There was a pause, and he said curtly, 'This is your desk.'

'I guessed that,' I retorted, dumping my bag and the file on the table.

Jesse just stared at me for a moment, then turned to go. But as he walked away, I swear I heard him saying some Spanish stuff under his breath.

Was he calling me _names_?

My anger returning, I watched him going to his desk, which was a few feet away and facing my own desk. Before he could turn and face me though, I sat down grumpily, making sure that my vision was obscured from looking at him by the semi-transparent glass, while contemplating about calling him names in the languages that I know, all 6 of them.

But he probably knew all of them too. Then when he hears me calling him names, he'd probably say I'm uncooperative _and_ immature. I rolled my eyes, picking up the grey file to read it and take my mind off such disturbing thoughts.

Who knew someone that hot, could be that _annoying_?

You know what, I think having a partner is going to really suck.

* * *

**As you can see this fic has a bunch of influences from the TV series 'Alias', with a few tweaks here and there. But it's okay if you don't watch the show, because only the concept is similar but the storyline is completely different. Also, Suze's situation and history is different from the Mediator books, all of which will be revealed in the coming chapters.**

**I'm quite excited about this story, and I hope you all are too! Please don't hesitate to give me feedback, I'd love to know what you all think.**

**Loves, Aina**

**_Disclaimer – All Mediator characters belong Meg Cabot, while all Alias characters belong to JJ Abrams_**


	2. Page 2

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, except for one incident that caused me to realize that DN-9 might not be so bad, despite having that certain partner of mine.

It was just before lunch, and I was sitting at my desk reviewing some cases that DN-9 had handled and are currently handling. I was absorbed with my work, but soon I felt a presence close to me.

I looked up, and saw a tall, skinny young guy with orange-red hair, glasses and sticky-outy ears standing by my desk.

'Hello,' he said amiably, grinning.

'Hi,' I replied, smiling back. 'I don't think we've met.'

'Nope,' he shook his head. 'I'm David. David Ackerman, to be exact. I'm the lead Technical Advisor of the Technical Division in this office. And you're Susannah Simon, the new officer transferred from the black-ops called APO, which stands for Authorized Personnel Only because the boss of APO is a criminal named Arvin Sloane who believes that he's not only clever, but also funny. I beg to differ.'

I blinked.

'Uh…okay. Nice to meet you, David,' I said, because that was the only thing that popped into my head.

This guy either had asked Dominic about my history, or he had researched himself. Which wasn't a really comforting thought, to be honest.

'Nice to meet you too, Susannah.' He shook my hand.

'Actually, I prefer Suze…' I said, almost reluctantly, considering what happened the last time I asked someone I didn't know to call me Suze.

'Oh, okay. Suze. Short and sweet.'

'Thank you!' I almost cried out, so relieved that David was being sensible. Who cares if he'd looked into my life history as long as he called Suze?

Yeah, my priorities have always been right. Hah.

'Not at all,' David replied, his blue eyes wide. I didn't exactly blame him.

'So David,' I said, feeling a little better since this morning. 'Did you want to tell me something? Other than Sloane isn't as funny as he thinks he is, that is.'

David laughed, then shrugged. 'I just thought I should introduce myself, since we'll be working together soon. In case you don't know, I'll be supplying the tools and disguises for you and Jesse during your missions. Oh, you've met Jesse, right?'

'…Yeah,' I grumbled.

Why did David have to bring him up? I've totally forgotten about Jesse. Especially since he had disappeared from his desk about an hour ago. Huh. Probably went off to lecture some unsuspecting new agents on the Importance of Teamwork or something.

David gave me a curious look, and I decided to change the topic before he started to ask about what happened. 'Anyway, you said you will be supplying my disguises? Do you have any that I can take a look at right now?'

'Actually, the disguises are all placed in another department – the Support Section. They have all these resources not just for clothes, but also supplies for my gadgets. I can show you my office, though, if you want. I have some devices that I'm currently working on,' he said.

'Sure,' I said, standing up. I could use a break from all these reading, anyway.

David showed me around the office, explaining what the rooms were for. Most of them were for senior officers, a couple were conference rooms complete with projectors and several laptops, and there were more rooms at the upper floor of this office, which was were the Support Section were located, as well as the Analysis Section, Psyche Evaluation Section and the Security Section.

On the way to his office at one lone corner of the floor, we bumped into a large, 40-ish, fierce-looking man who was coming out of one of the rooms belonging to the senior officers. But as soon as he saw David and me, he broke into a smile, and didn't look as scary as he did a few seconds ago.

He introduced himself as Carl Walden, the Assistant Director of DN-9, and he's been working in the CIA for almost 20 years. Now he doesn't take on field missions as much except if absolutely necessary, and told me he was glad that I had arrived because they were short on officers after Gerrard left a few months ago.

'I'd rather think my days of shooting and running around are over,' Carl said, patting his sizeable belly, a good-natured smile on his face.

Then we went on our way, and I followed David as we entered his office. Like Dominic's, his office was pretty much grey. Unlike Dominic's, it wasn't neat. In fact, David's office was the opposite of neat. It was actually larger than it looked, but there were just enough space for a few people to sit or stand around due to all the things that were in there. There were the two sets of computer placed side by side on two tables, a roll around chair, another smaller table topped with various complicated-looking-mechanical-devices and what looked like a bookcase, except it was metal and filled with rows of CDs.

I was fascinated, because many of the stuff lying around the room looked like ordinary everyday things, like cell phones and credit card holders, but they've been modified to perform a completely different purpose. Basic spying secret stuff, really. I picked up a black Parker pen, trying to guess what it actually was.

Meanwhile, David was rambling on, asking me to sit down and fretting because he only had one chair, the rolling one. 'I can get another chair for you, or you can sit here because I don't need to – DON'T TOUCH THAT!'

I jumped, almost letting go of the pen. Whirling around, I cried out, 'What, _what_?'

David rushed over to me and took the pen from my hand. '_This_ is a device that could conjure electric current to almost 100,000 volts; just enough to make you go into shock for a few seconds hence rendering you helpless during that time. I know this because I accidentally touched the end and electrocuted myself yesterday, and had to lie here on the floor for about a minute until I recovered. It's like a stun gun, only smaller. Now I'm working on making a safety catch to it so that the one who uses wouldn't accidentally electrocute himself. Or in your case, herself.'

'Why'd you go and invent such things then?' I said incredulously, thanking my lucky stars that I didn't electrocute myself, or worse, electrocuting myself then bumping my head against the table as I fell down in shock.

'Well, if this works, it's actually cheaper than using Triazolam – the drug that you use to make the enemies sleep, you know, the ones that you shoot or spray. Besides, electric current doesn't leave marks or traces of chemical, so it will be hard for them to determine who you're working for, should they cross your path,' David explained, carefully putting the electric pen on one of the shelves of the metal bookcase.

I had to admit his idea was creative. A little dangerous, but then, aren't all the best things are?

'Well, do you have any devices that would not cause electrocution to either of us?'

'Of course,' he said brightly, picking up the phone – a Nokia 6102 - that I had seen when I entered his office. Then he proceeded to explain that it was actually a device which can suck all the information from a computer hard drive into the internal ram inside the 'phone' just by placing it near a computer's CPU.

Which was how I spent my lunchtime, sitting in David's office, looking at his devices and telling him about some of the funny stuff that happened when I was working in APO.

It was strange, but I usually have a hard time talking to guys I've just met, especially one whom I have to work with, but it was different with David. Maybe because he was several years younger than me – he was recruited into the CIA only about a year ago after he graduated from Yale – or maybe because he was such a sincere person, but it was so easy to talk to him.

He asked me about APO's tech guy, and I told him it was a guy named Marshall who was such a genius, but also really funny in his own eccentric ways.

'So,' I said in between my laughter, 'he puts a camera into what looked like this tube of lip gloss, but guess what? It really _was_ a tube of lip gloss; instead of making one, he got a real lip gloss with pistachio flavor. Because that's his favorite!'

'Okay, then you have to tell me what your favorite flavor is, because my favorite flavor is cheese and you don't want a cheese-flavored lip gloss, do you? Because that is kind of disgusting,' David said, pausing from laughing to make a revolted expression.

I started to laugh again, when there was a knock, and the door to David's office opened.

'David, where –'

Both of us turned to the person, and I felt the laughter disappearing from my face as quickly as water draining down the sink.

Jesse was standing at the doorway, his expression one of extreme disapproval as he took in me sitting on the rolling chair, David sitting on another chair opposite of me which he had took from one of the other rooms.

'Hi Jesse. What did you say?' David didn't seem to realize the changing atmosphere of the room, like a cheerful fire that was suddenly doused with water, leaving everything drab and dreary.

Jesse fixed a look at me, as if he wanted me to be gone pronto, and I was happy to do so. Anything to get away from Mr.-I-Won't-Call-Your-Name-Because-I-Think-It's-Vulgar-Even-Though-It's-Not.

'David, I should get back to work. I'll talk to you later, okay?'

Despite my uneasiness, I smiled at him, grateful that not only did I make a new friend, but also one that could almost pass as a younger brother.

That's the thing about being an only child, you never know that you're missing something until you meet someone that makes you realize differently.

I walked out of the office without even glancing at Jesse. I could feel his eyes burning on my back though, and almost turned on my heels and asked him to mind his own business.

But I just sat down at my desk and picked up my bag to rummage for some sweets. And when I caught a glimpse of my lip gloss, I laughed quietly to myself, instantly forgetting my miserable mood.

- A. M. A. I. -

I arrived home at around 6pm, and after picking up some of the letters in the post box, I entered the house, placing my bag and car keys on the table in the hallway.

'Suze, is that you?'

'Yeah, it's me,' I answered, making my way to the living room. 'Who else did you think it would be?'

Cee Cee was sitting on the couch, a laptop open on the coffee table and the TV was on, showing CNN. 'Hey. No, I thought it might be Adam, since he invited us to dinner tonight, said he had something to tell us. You're coming, okay? Connor is coming too."

I plopped down the couch, sorting through the letters. 'Sure. Do you know what Adam's news is about? Here, your letter.'

Cee Cee took the letter I handed her, shaking her head. 'Nope. But he sounded happy, so I assumed it must be good news. So how's your day? Is the new office better than before?

I had told Cee that I was moving to a new office, but she obviously didn't know what my job actually was. I had told her I'm in marketing, not so surprising since my degree was actually in social science – something I thought would come in handy once I graduated. Of course, I didn't think that the CIA would come into the equation.

But I would never tell Cee about the CIA. It's the only thing I kept as a secret from her, because she knew about my other secret. Well, former secret.

It wasn't due to it being against CIA procedure that I didn't tell her because I knew she could keep her word, but it was because I didn't want anything to happen to her. Sydney had informed me about how her fiancée was killed after she told him what she did – true, that was back when she was mistakenly working for the bad guys, but still. The CIA would not go so far as to kill anyone who found out about the covert branch of the Agency, but they would put him or her into the Witness Protection Program.

Maybe I was thinking about myself too. Cee Cee was the only best friend I have since Gina, not including Adam, and I couldn't imagine living my life knowing that I caused her to be shipped to Guatemala or somewhere else.

I shrugged. 'It was okay. My boss seemed pretty cool, and I met some other co-workers who were really nice. But there was this other guy…he was so annoying. You know he wouldn't call me Suze because he thought it was vulgar?'

She laughed. 'Was he joking? I mean, that sounded a bit extreme.'

'No, he wasn't. He said he wanted to call me _Susannah_. Ugh. He was just being annoying, and now I'm not talking to him.'

'…Because he wouldn't call you Suze?' Cee asked, frowning a little.

'Well…no. There's this other thing about a previous employee there…he thought I was being disrespectful or something. I don't really want to talk about it,' I said, sighing loudly.

Cee raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. I picked up the remote control and asked her if she was watching, and she said no. I should have known better than to think that she would keep quiet about Jesse though, because while I was flipping through the channels, she spoke again.

'Is he hot?'

'What is _that_ has to do with anything?' I said, glaring at her.

'Well, maybe you're threatened by his good looks, and you decide to put him into a bad light so that you would not feel tempted to flirt with him or to feel attracted to him,' Cee said nonchalantly as she typed on her laptop.

I gaped at her. 'Cee, you're nuts! I am not attracted to him, nor would I _flirt _with him. That's…that's just crazy! You think too much.'

She stopped typing and looked at me. 'But is he hot?'

I sputtered a little, torn between denying and proving that her theory was wrong, and telling her the truth and causing her to go all I-told-you-so. 'Well, no, not really, I mean, it really depends on what your definition of hot is, you know, to you he might seem hot but to me, he could be really ugly….'

She continued looking at me flatly.

I rolled my eyes, giving in. 'FINE. He's hot. Happy? Although you should know that looks aren't everything.'

Cee grinned, knowing that she got me. Sometimes it freaked me out how much she knew about me, even more than I knew myself.

'Maybe looks aren't everything, but hey, it's pretty important, right?'

I got up, throwing the remote on the couch. 'I don't know and I don't care. And you, Miss Webbe, shouldn't be thinking about hot guys when you already have one at your disposal, one who is actually not annoying. So be thankful.'

'I'll tell Connor you just said nice things about him. He'll probably get a heart attack,' she snickered.

I smiled, making my way to the bedroom to take a shower and change.

I guess I had been a little hard on Connor, Cee's boyfriend of almost four months. I didn't know why I didn't trust him, so much that I even had a friend of mine in the FBI to run a background check on him, because he seemed too good to be true. A pretty successful non-fiction author, nice-looking guy, loves his parents, lives in a one-story house in the corner of the city, soft-spoken and considerate. I mean, no way a guy is that perfect.

Then the check came out clean and I had to admit that I was wrong. But I could see for myself that he had always treated Cee right, and she's always so happy when she's with him. I hope she never found out about me checking up on Connor because she probably would kill me.

I guess maybe in my mind I've always thought that Cee Cee should be with Adam, my other best friend. They've been friends since high school, and when I met them in UCLA for the first time, I thought they were a couple, and was quickly told otherwise.

Too bad.

Adam came by about half an hour later, proclaiming us as 'fair ladies accompanying a knight' but refused to say what his news was. So we went to the Italian restaurant Giola at around 7, where Connor met us after his meeting with his publisher.

Turned out Adam's good news was that he had been promoted to Senior Executive in his automobile company, hence the reason he was treating us all to dinner.

'It's all on me, so order whatever you want because this offer is likely to be once in a lifetime. Suze, no more bringing up subjects on how I always receive and never give,' he said, putting on a so-called serious expression on his otherwise mischievous face.

"I never said that!' I said in mock anger. 'And besides, you'll get more promotions in the future, so we'll be waiting for more dinner treats from you.'

'Nope. Next time will be Cee Cee's turn. Didn't you get a raise or something, Cee? How come we never get a taste of your well-earned income?'

"Because you had nothing to do with my income,' Cee replied, but she was smiling, her pale face radiant under the restaurants' lighting. She really was so beautiful, and I thought of how lucky Connor was to be with her.

I looked over at him to see his reaction, but he wasn't looking at any of us. Instead, he was staring at the food on his plate. He had a smile on his face, but it looked fixed, and he just continued to pick on his food, occasionally looking at his watch. Then all of a sudden he looked up and whispered something to Cee, before getting up and leaving the table.

I watched him go, before asking Cee, 'Where's he going?'

'Oh, he just had to make a phone call,' Cee said, before debating with Adam on his qualifications as a Senior Executive.

I knew it was wrong to be suspicious, but I was trained to be. And Connor's behavior was really shifty, and I knew I had to do something.

'You know what, I think I'm gonna check on my make up,' I said.

'Don't you usually check after we've eaten?' Cee pointed out, looking strangely at me.

'Uh, yeah, but my gloss feel weird. I'm just gonna be gone for a while,' I quickly said then hurried off before either of them could reply.

I made my way to the area where the ladies' room was, making sure that I wasn't making any noises.

Sure enough, Connor was there, making a call by the payphone near the restrooms, which was weird because I knew he had his own cell phone. I ducked down behind a large plant, and tried to eavesdrop on his convo.

'….she doesn't know about it. I made sure.' Pause. 'I haven't received all the details yet, but as soon as I do, I will make contact. But she seemed to adapt well.' Pause. 'No, her friends are nothing to worry about, just ordinary people.' Pause. 'Alright, I will.' Pause, then a clack of metal as he hung up.

I held in my breath, waiting for him to pass by where I was hiding. After he did, I crept out and went into the bathroom.

My face was flushed as I looked into the mirror, and my heart was hammering hard.

I didn't know what Connor's deal was all about, and anxiety filled me as I thought about the possibility that he had been lying about who he really was all this time. I had checked on him, but apparently that wasn't enough.

Maybe I was overreacting, but the very least I knew is he was hiding something. The question was, what exactly?

A terrible thought popped into my head. What if all this was a ploy to get to me? It sounded stupid, but anything was possible. He could be working undercover for an opposing organization, and was using Cee to get to me. I mean, I couldn't think of a reason why anyone would want to investigate Cee. But me…

Whatever it was, he better not be planning to hurt Cee. Because if Connor really was after her or anything related to her, then he'll find out the hard way that Cee's best friend isn't as ordinary as he thinks she is.

* * *

**Thank you for all your positive feedback!**

**Some of the reviewers mentioned that you've never watched _Alias_ before. Well, basically _Alias_ is about a woman named Sydney Bristow who was recruited as an agent for a secret branch of the CIA. After Sydney told her fiancée about what she really does, the head of the division had him killed. Sydney then learnt that the branch she was working for was actually of a rival organization, and so became a double agent, working with the real CIA to bring down the bad guys.**

**That's the premise of the show, which is different than the way I view this fic to be. So this is pretty much starting anew, actually.**

**Reviews are much loved and welcomed!**

**Love, Aina.**


	3. Page 3

The next day I was at the office early, with one purpose in my mind.

After Connor's phone call and I had returned to the table, the dinner went without a hitch. Connor looked more comfortable though, he participated in the conversation and at one point even kissed Cee Cee in front of us, prompting Adam to declare that his 'virginal eyes were burning'.

It was all I could do not to leap across the table and use all the skills I learnt at Langley against Connor. Of course, I had no proof that he was doing anything wrong, but that didn't mean I had to trust him.

When dinner was over, I had a mind to follow Connor and see if he was meeting whoever his contact was, but I couldn't get away from Cee without any reasonable excuse. I knew I had to be careful around her, being the sharp girl that she was, I couldn't risk it.

So the next morning I hurried to DN-9 to see if I could scrounge any information on him. The first thing I did was find David and ask him if I was able to access the database of males aged 25 to 35 living in Los Angeles with the purpose of looking into potential moles from other independent organizations. I didn't give him any details, but he was willing to help and gave me the link to the database.

'But you can only get the information that is available to the LAPD since being a Junior Officer, you don't have clearance for more detailed data. You can ask a Senior Officer for clearance though, if it's really important,' David told me.

I told him it was alright, and thanked him.

I searched the database for Connor O'Leary, and came up with three results. I checked each one, and found the Connor I was looking for at the last result. But like the other two, his background was pretty much spotless, except for a parking ticket last year. It was exactly like what Linda, my FBI friend, had informed me when I asked her to check Connor's background. Unsatisfied, I typed in Connor and O'Leary in all kinds of spelling variations, but came up with no results.

Leaning back in my chair, I stared at Connor's photo on my computer screen, my mind buzzing.

Was this just a cover? Was the real Connor O'Leary dead and this fake Connor using his identity? Maybe he had plastic surgery, or maybe he has a mask on.

I should ask Cee if his face had ever felt weird or anything….

Shaking my head, I told myself that I was overreacting. I bet Connor was just talking about the plot of his latest book or something.

That's it. Maybe he's writing a book about Cee Cee and didn't want her to know!

Well, I guess that would be cool… though a bit creepy, since I'm sure he hadn't mentioned it to her about it, or else she would have told me.

My thoughts were interrupted when Dominic walked past my table and asked me to come to Conference Room 1 for a briefing.

A briefing. That usually means there's a mission.

I almost leaped out of my chair before remembering to click off the database, then went into the room.

Conference Room 1 was the only room in the office with transparent glass as its walls, unlike the other rooms. I entered, and saw that David and Jesse were already inside. I sat at the conference table besides David, Jesse on the other side of the table opposite of me. I was careful to avoid looking at him, and kept my eyes on Dominic instead.

Dominic sat at the head of the table, and began the briefing by clicking on a remote to the large plasma screen TV behind him. A picture of what looked like a camera flashed onto the screen. The same picture appeared on the laptop in front of me and the one in front of David. I assumed that whatever was shown on the main screen would also be shown on the laptops.

'This is a coding machine, designed to construct a person's DNA just by taking a fragment of the person's skin. It was created by this man,' the picture changed to show an older Chinese man, 'Foong Chua Ju. He's an engineer from Taiwan who's been working with STM for the past year to design a machine for the purposes of replicating DNA. Susannah, you know of STM?'

I looked up from the laptop. 'The Hong Kong-based operation, responsible for attacks on several US companies in Asia. But why would they be interested in creating a machine like this, I thought their operation is mainly of industrial demolition?'

'That was what we thought as well, but so far we have no lead on to what they are planning to do with the coding machine.'

'Maybe they're preparing for human cloning,' David piped up.

Dominic smiled, shaking his head. 'I doubt that's their plan. Their R & D isn't biological, but more towards chemical, which is why the Agency thinks that STM might be collaborating with another independent organization for a bigger objective. This is substantiated by an intel that we received from our source – an agent from STM is planning to hand over the coding machine to a contact in Kuala Lumpur.'

'Wait,' I said, realizing something. 'Why would the exchange take place in Kuala Lumpur and not in Hong Kong?'

'We believe that both STM and the other organization prefer a neutral meeting place in order not to give any advantage to one or the other. Perhaps both have not reached a complete level of trust given their new 'relationship'. This could be a partnership, or simply a swap. Perhaps by supplying this machine, STM would be able to get something else in return,' Dominic explained.

He handed Jesse and I a file each, before clicking on the remote again, to display what looked like a pyramid.

'Did you know that there is a pyramid in Kuala Lumpur?'

I was puzzled. 'I didn't.'

'Well, that's because there aren't any,' Dominic smiled, because he got me. 'This is actually Sunway Pyramid Mall, built based on the architectural designs of the pyramids and the Sphinx in Egypt. This is where you, Susannah, and Jesse, will be headed to. Above the shopping mall there is a convention centre where an Information Technology Exhibition will be held. Susannah, you will be posing as an IT consultant from a company called Freelance Corp who is looking to buy the latest Information System Software, and your alias is Belinda Jones. Jesse will be your support for comm and pick up.'

I flipped the papers in the file, still resolutely keeping my eyes away from Jesse. Well, he may be my support but that didn't mean we had to be friends.

Belinda Jones. Not bad. Except…

Oh my God. I can't have this name!

'I'm sorry, but can I be given another alias?' I said without thinking.

Dominic looked confused. 'What's wrong with the name?'

I struggled to explain without actually…explaining. 'I just don't like it. Well, I just don't like its initials.'

Everyone paused, then David started laughing, Jesse sighed like he thought I was being petty – which I was NOT – and Dominic still looked confused.

'What about its init –'

'Dominic, can you just please give me another alias? I don't mean to be difficult, but I'd rather have another name.'

Gina would have laughed her head off, like David was doing right now, if she had been here.

Imagine, being a walking BJ.

I felt sorry for the real Belinda Joneses everywhere. High school must have been hell.

Dominic shuffled the papers in front of him, then said, 'Well…another alias available would be of Andrea Lloyd, but I thought you would have preferred Belinda Jones since it sounds like the name of a younger person.'

'Andrea Lloyd is totally fine. Thanks,' I clarified. Thank God my boss is cool, even though he seemed a little naïve about the current lingo.

David had slowed down to a mini-chuckle, and I threw him a mock glare. Jesse just stared at his file, looking mightily uninterested about the fate of my aliases.

Hah. That's only because he has no alias on this mission. I hope his alias on the next mission would be equally as bad. Maybe worse, like Stephen Thomas Dwayne.

Then we'll see how he reacts.

'Alright,' Dominic said, continuing the briefing. 'Susannah, your mission is to obtain the coding machine, located in one of the main offices in the convention centre. It will be disguised as an exhibition piece, but my guess would be that it would be gone before the exhibition starts at noon. The exchange is scheduled to take place in the convention centre itself, we do not know where specifically, which is why you must get the machine before it is moved.'

'Did the source give any information on the STM agent who will be there?' Jesse spoke for the first time since we've been in here.

It startled me how deep his voice was. It was almost like I had forgotten how his voice sounded like, and well, now that I had been reminded, it did not sound bad at all.

But that still didn't make me like him or anything.

'Unfortunately we do not have information on that, which means that it is possible that there would be more than one agent situated at the exhibition. Susannah, I trust you would be careful.' Dominic focused his baby-blues at me.

'Of course,' I replied, adrenaline starting to pump into my blood. It was a tingly, exciting feeling in my stomach that I always get whenever I knew I was heading to a foreign country, working on a possibly dangerous mission for the CIA.

My father wouldn't have approved of this job, I knew that. He was very protective of his only daughter. But he was in another place now, so I didn't think he would mind.

'David, go ahead,' Dominic said, gesturing to David, who promptly stood up.

'Okay. Now, here's a watch, an ordinary looking watch, very cool-looking with the lights and buttons at the side – it's looks like Swatch Paparazzi.' David picked up a black digital watch from the table and held it up.

'But, it is actually an electronic configurator, for configurating the numbers for a safe or for any electronic devices which requires numbering input. This means that if the machine is located in a safe, you just place the watch on the surface of the safe, like this,' he demonstrated by placing the watch vertically against the wall behind him, 'and then it will automatically starts to configure the internal mechanism for the right numbers.'

'Cool,' I said, smiling.

David grinned, picking up something else from the table. 'I'm not done yet. This is a cigarette lighter, or it looks like one. Not that I want people to think that you smoke, Suze, especially since the center is a no smoking zone, but a lot of people carry lighters for safety, and you could be one of them. But…you don't smoke, right?'

'Uh, no,' I replied, thinking back to the one incident when I had tried smoking after seeing Gina looking cool as she did so. After a fit of eye-watering coughs though, I decided that smoking was not my style.

'David,' Dominic chided, but nicely.

'Oh, okay. Sorry. So, this lighter is actually a feed scrambler, it disrupts videos and any other form of filming devices, like security cameras, which would be everywhere at the centre, so that you can get through unseen by security. Just press this button,' he showed the small button placed where the flame should be, 'and it will send a signal to disrupt the frequency of all video connections in a 1 mile radius. But it only lasts for 5 minutes and 15 seconds though, so you have to rush in and rush out.'

'Will do,' I answered.

David sat back down, and Dominic said, 'The exhibition begins on Friday, so you two will be leaving tomorrow afternoon and arriving on Friday morning. Remember, this mission is tactical, not offensive, so if anything goes wrong, abandon the mission immediately, even if you did not manage to obtain the coding machine.'

I nodded and we all stood up to leave the conference room, but I wasn't actually agreeing with Dominic. Sure, it was a tactical mission. But there was no way in hell would I leave Kuala Lumpur without that machine. This was my first mission for DN-9, and I wanted to prove that I was a good agent.

In fact, it was not a want, but a _need_ to prove that I was a good agent.

'Susannah.'

I turned instinctively at the sound of my name, before registering that it was Jesse, not Dominic who had called me. Then I realized that I had just missed an opportunity to force Jesse to call me Suze by ignoring him whenever he calls me Susannah. Totally childish, but no one said I have to be mature all the time.

'Yeah?' I stopped and looked at him impatiently.

He didn't look any happier to be talking to me either, but he said, 'We should discuss our plan for the mission.'

'Now?'

'Well, yes. When else?' he replied in this smart-alecky tone.

I swallowed the urge to snap at him and said shortly, 'Right.' Then I walked back into the conference room and sat down at the table again.

Jesse followed silently, sitting down beside me.

His close proximity made me notice that he had a nice scent, like a clean, woody kind of smell and it reminded me of forests and waterfalls.

Okay. What a random, stupid thought.

I opened the file and studied the plan of the shopping mall and the convention centre. The room was silent, and I deliberately kept quiet even though I know he was waiting for me to say something. I was purposefully being difficult, which was actually quite fun.

Finally, Jesse said, 'The entrances to this convention centre are through the level 8 parking lot and the shopping mall. I will be situated at the car park, from where you will enter and leave the centre, since it is more convenient. Is that alright?'

'Can't we enter through the shopping mall? I need a new hairbrush, maybe I can stop at one of the shops before going to the centre,' I said coolly, knowing that it would get on his nerves.

He frowned and said _very_ seriously, 'This is not a joke, Susannah.'

See? I was right.

I refrained from rolling my eyes and instead said, 'I was just kidding. Don't you have a sense of humor? Even a little bit?'

'It seemed to have gone missing the moment you came into DN-9,' Jesse said, not at all looking like _he_ was kidding.

I took real offense at that. I am not a person who causes people lose their sense of humor! In fact, I encourage people to have a sense of humor!

'I doubt if it can go missing when it wasn't there in the first place. Are we done?' I said curtly as I stood up, ready to get the hell away from him as far as possible within DN-9.

'We are done,' Jesse said, also standing up. He looked as angry as I felt, especially when he closed his file with a THUD.

Well, I guess we were even.

'See you at LAX tomorrow then,' I said, walking out of the room without waiting for his reply.

I know it was partly my fault for being difficult, but he could have loosened up a little. I mean, Jesse was so serious, I bet his face would crack if he tried to smile. He was making everything less fun.

How the hell was I supposed to go halfway around the world, risking my life in a mission with someone I couldn't even stand?

- A. M. A. I. -

When I arrived home later, Cee Cee hadn't come back yet.

I immediately wondered if she was with Connor. That was the first time I've thought of him since looking him up at the database, because I had been busy with preparation for the trip tomorrow after the briefing.

Well, nothing I could do now but wait until she comes back. Then maybe I can sneak some questions in without arousing her suspicions.

After taking a shower and changing into my PJ's, I went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was actually Cee's turn, but I figured since I'd be going away, it was the least I could do.

I was peeling the potatoes when I heard the front door being opened, and a minute later Cee walked into the kitchen, looking like she would collapse any second.

'Hey. You look exhausted, what happened?' I asked, concerned.

She sat down on the chair near the counter and sighed. 'I had to redo my article about the petrol price crisis that was due tomorrow, because some reporter got some new info. I had no idea how they managed to miss that information in the first place and today I had to rush from my office to their office to get more details and then back to my office to rewrite the thing. I'm so tired…'

I gave her a sorry look. 'That sucks. Well, you can relax, I have the dinner covered.'

She paused, then groaned. 'Oh no, it's my turn today!'

'Forget it, Cee,' I said before she could go on. 'Just go and take a bath, when you're done we can eat.'

She stood up, finally smiling a little. 'Thanks Suze. You're an angel.'

I laughed at that, because if there was an angel on earth, it wouldn't be me. And despite being named the City of Angels, I would eat a bug if I ever found an angel in LA.

Cee turned to go, before stopping, like she just realized something. 'Oh yeah, Rachel gave me some tickets to the Vibe on Saturday, there's a local band performing there. She couldn't go because she had to visit her mother, so she gave them to me. I have two, wanna go?'

I was about to reply with a yes, when I remembered my trip. Darn. There was no way I could be back by Saturday.

'Actually, I have to go on a trip to Washington tomorrow…I don't think I can be back before Sunday…' I said, feeling bad about lying to her.

I mean, I've been in the CIA since I was a junior in UCLA, and I've been going on missions a year later, but it still didn't make me feel comfortable about lying to her. She even believed me when I told her I had to be relocated to Virginia for two years, where I had actually worked at Langley, before coming back to LA last year to work in APO.

She just thinks that my job requires me to travel a lot to meet clients. Well, she got half of that right.

'You're going on a trip already? But you just started working there!' Cee Cee said, looking surprised.

I sighed. 'I know. Well, this is more like a conference, so I won't be doing much work there. Just go to a lot of boring seminars.'

'Well…okay then. I guess I'll ask Adam, since Connor isn't into all these band music.'

Bingo. Just the opening I was looking for.

'Great. So…how _is_ Connor?' I asked as casually as I could, keeping my eyes on the potatoes.

'He's fine. Why do you ask?' Cee said, her tone already quite different, a tinge of suspicion on them.

I shrugged. 'Nothing. He just seemed a little distant last night.'

Cee sat back on the chair, and I saw that she actually looked disturbed. 'I know…honestly, he's been acting a bit weird lately. He doesn't talk much. Then the other day when I was at his place, he received a call and he went into his study to take it. When I went to call him for lunch, he quickly put down the phone when I entered the study. It may be nothing, but…'

But it all seemed very _off_, I thought.

'Do you think maybe he's seeing another woman?' Cee asked suddenly, looking a bit sad.

I stared at her, a bit taken aback. I was surprised that it hadn't occurred to me. It would explain some things, but not all, including Connor's conversation that I heard the yesterday. But a cheating boyfriend would be less dangerous than an undercover agent.

Although, looking at Cee's face now, I sorely wished that Connor wasn't cheating on her.

'Of course not,' I tried to reassure her, 'I think he's just planning for a new book, maybe he doesn't want to reveal the plot to anyone just yet. You know how authors are.'

'But…his books are on the historical development of European cities. He doesn't need plots for that,' Cee said, dubiously.

'Oh. Right. Well, have you asked him about it? Maybe there's an explanation for all of this.'

'…I haven't,' she admitted.

'There you go,' I said, as if that just solved it all. 'You should ask him, maybe he wants to tell you but isn't sure how. Maybe he's starting to write fictions now, who knows. Just ask him, I'm sure it'll be fine.'

'What if he doesn't tell me anything? What if he's really seeing someone else?'

'Cee Cee, I'm sure that's not true. He loves you. I can see it. And if he wants to be with someone else, wouldn't he have broken up with you by now?'

Cee exhaled loudly. 'I guess you're right. I _hope_ you're right.'

'You know I am,' I smiled, and she smiled back, though doubt still played in her violet eyes, before she left the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, I placed the knife on the cutting board and stood there without moving while digested what I had just learned. I may have sounded reassuring, but it was for me as much as it was for Cee Cee.

I so badly wanted this Connor deal to turn out to be nothing. But my mind was still on it, even when I was cooking and when Cee and I sat down to dinner. I wish there was something I could do, like trail him as he goes about his daily life, or check his phone record, or try to talk to his book agent about any possible new work that he was working on.

But later that night, as I was packing, I realized that I had more pressing things that I should think about, like how was I going to survive a 24-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur with a man I couldn't even talk to without getting snippy with.

Looks like Connor and his strange behavior would just have to wait until I get back.

* * *

**I've pre-selected some interesting cities for Suze's future missions, but if any of you have a particular place that you want her to go to, feel free to give your suggestions to me. I cannot guarantee the places will be included, but if it does, you will be credited, of course.**

**Reviews are much loved!**

**Love, Aina.**


	4. Page 4

**Kuala Lumpur**

I picked up the earpiece from the small box, and placed it in my right ear.

'Copy?'

'Clear,' I answered, glancing at Jesse. He was sitting on the seat beside me, fiddling with his headset. When it was secured, he turned his attention on the laptop on the counter in front of him.

We were sitting in a CIA-issued surveillance van, which looked normal from the outside but actually not normal when you look on the inside. Instead of filled with comfortable seats at the back, it's pretty much empty save from a counter on one side of the van topped with all kinds of communication equipments, and some chairs.

But you wanna know something _really_ not normal?

That word that Jesse just said, you know, 'copy', was the first word he has said to me since we left LAX about a day ago. Likewise, 'clear' was the first word I've said to him in the same amount of time.

No, I'm not kidding.

During the whole 24-hour flight, Jesse and I had not exchanged a single word with one another.

I had fretted the whole time before I arrived at LAX, but my anxiety of having to be around him was lessened as soon as I found out that we had a private charter flight, instead of a normal flight. So we basically had the whole plane to ourselves, including the two pilots and another agent, Jake Foreman, who was to be our designated driver in Kuala Lumpur.

Jesse sat at one end of the nicely-furnished plane, while I the other. I spent the journey studying the plan of the shopping mall and convention centre again, memorizing all the entrances and exits, then reading up on STM, eating the food they had prepared, slept for a little while, talked to Jake about our experiences and then prepared myself just before landing by freshening up and changing into my Andrea Lloyd outfit for the day.

I didn't know what Jesse did. I saw that he read some files and some heavy, old-looking books, and he also talked to Jake and the pilots.

I noticed he glanced at me a few times for whatever reasons, maybe to check that I wasn't chatting on the phone or dozing off or something, but I acted like he didn't exist, and he let me be. If Jake had detected the weird atmosphere between Jesse and me, he didn't say anything.

Then we continued the silent treatment during the ride from the airport to the shopping mall and during the whole time that we were setting up in the van in the level 8 parking lot. He only spoke to Jake, who was driving, to tell him where to park the van.

I hated to admit it, but I did feel a little troubled thinking that maybe he'd just let me go in by myself without saying anything. I mean, I could do it, but I've never done a mission with a partner that I didn't get along with. I didn't like Jesse, but he was all I had in this trip.

So as much as I wanted to continue not talking to him, I was actually relieved when he handed me the earpiece and asked if I could hear him.

'I'm setting up the online server connection to their mainframe, so that when you disrupt their security cameras, I can still view the recordings,' Jesse said, his eyes on the laptop screen. He didn't sound cold or angry, but professional, like he was putting all of our differences aside and was focused on this mission.

And I decided that I would do the same thing.

I took my compact mirror from my changing bag and popped it open for one last look to see that my make up was not streaking, and my wig perfectly placed. Placing the mirror back into the bag, I smoothed down my jacket, checking the feed scrambler in the front pocket and the faux Swatch on my wrist to make sure they were where they should be. Then I picked up the empty leather briefcase where I would be placing the coding machine and announced, 'I'm ready.'

I looked over at Jesse and to my surprise, I saw that he was watching me. He wasn't looking like he wanted to kick me out of the van though, but like he was assessing me critically. Like he was wondering about my ability to perform the task and whether I was up for it.

I was about to tell him that I would show him what I was capable of, when he surprised me again by saying in an almost nice tone, 'Good luck, Susannah.'

Well, that dampened my snappy thoughts like a deflated soufflé.

Plus, this close, Jesse was very easy on the eyes. I could practically count his long dark lashes, if, you know, we were in a different circumstance.

Although I really couldn't think of a situation where it would be alright for me and him to be sitting this close without saying anything and not feel awkward about it.

So I just nodded, taking a deep breath to calm my heart that was already pumping a faster with anticipation, and slid open the van door before stepping out into the Malaysian heat.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, especially in an indoor parking lot near the air-conditioned mall. After glancing around to check my surroundings as I was trained to, I walked across the parking lot towards the entrance of the building.

As I got closer to the entrance, I caught a glimpse of my reflection on the sliding glass doors. I thought that I definitely looked like IT consultant Andrea Lloyd, decked in a coral top, black pants with matching black jacket, two-inch pumps, non-prescription glasses and my black wig tied up in a bun. In terms of disguises though, this was probably the least extreme I've ever had, because the outfit is almost similar to the suits that I wear to DN-9 everyday.

I entered the building, and found myself in a large reception hall. On my right, there were escalators moving upwards to the convention centre, while to the front of me were another pair of sliding doors, heading towards the mall.

I could see glimpses of shops like Gucci and Miss Selfridges with all their glittering new products through the glass doors, and despite my typical aversion to malls, I almost feel tempted to have a little bit of window shopping. But work comes first, and with a suppressed sigh, I made my way up the escalator.

The escalator reached the top and I walked down the hallway which led to the large convention centre. The space inside looked big enough to occupy about 5 semi-d houses and the roof of the centre was high up, like the roof of a cathedral. There were exhibition pieces of computers and softwares all set up around the centre, with a considerable number of people already milling about, looking at the displays and talking to the representatives of the companies.

I made my way through the crowd, trying to blend in while at the same time surveying the surroundings.

As far as I could tell, there were no other agents situated around the hall. Yet.

I glanced at my watch, before realizing that it was not a real watch, so I discreetly said, 'What time is it now?'

Jesse's deep - and yeah, a little sexy, but whatever, just focus, Suze - voice came through the earpiece, '11.25. I have connected to the server, Susannah, so you can scramble the frequency now.'

'Got it,' I said, then started to walk to the other side of the hall, where there was another passage leading to the offices.

When I reached the doorway of the passage, I put my hand in my pocket and pressed the button to the fake lighter, before saying, 'I've pressed the scrambler. Count down my time now.'

Then as inconspicuous as I could, I stepped around the red rope they had placed across the doorway, and quickly made my way down the empty passage. I saw cameras placed on the ceiling, but right now the security will be getting nothing but white noise, like a broken TV set.

At the end of the passage, I peered around the corner to check for guards, before running down the hallway of the offices. There were rows of doors on each side of hallway, all bearing the titles of the office's owner. The source said the code machine will be placed in the office of the Head of Finance Department, and I found it easily enough.

Selecting two pins from my wig, I picked at the lock of the office door until I heard a 'click'. I twisted the knob, pushed open the door and entered.

'I'm in,' I said, looking around the large office.

Nothing unusual, just the regular desk, couch, bookshelves. And a large painting, obscuring almost a quarter of the wall behind the desk.

'You have less than 4 minutes left,' Jesse said.

I moved towards the painting, and after fumbling around for a bit, managed to bring it down to reveal a metal safe placed inside the wall behind it. Snapping off my disguised Swatch Paparazzi, I placed it vertically against the safe where it stuck magnetically, and watched as the black digital numbers started to run in order to configure the numbers to the safe.

I slowed down my breathing, and said, 'It's configurating now.'

After a few moments, I felt like it was taking a very long time with only 3 of the 5 numbers configured. A little anxious, I asked, 'How much time do I have left?'

'2 minutes. Susannah, if you can't open the safe by the time 1 minute approaches, you must leave immediately.'

I frowned, staring at the watch, willing it to go faster. I was _this_ close; I couldn't leave without the machine now.

Suddenly Jesse's voice sounded more urgent. 'Susannah, there are three men coming down the hallway to the office. You must leave, now!'

Shit.

Only one number left. 'Hold on, it's almost done,' I said, starting to sweat. Come on, come on, come on…

'Susannah –'

'It's done!'

I opened the safe and grabbed the machine, slipping it into the briefcase I was carrying. Then just as I closed the safe and snatched the Swatch, the office door opened.

I froze like a deer under the headlights as three Chinese men walked in, abruptly stopping when they saw me.

'Uh oh,' I said, under my breath.

'Susannah, if they're armed, just surrender the machine,' Jesse said. His voice, however sexy, was starting to annoy me right now. I wish he would stop barking orders like I was dumb.

'Who are you?' demanded the guy in the middle, the older one. The two younger guys flanked his sides, no doubt his body guards.

More specifically, STM agents.

'I'm whoever you want me to be,' I replied with a smile.

Then I flung the briefcase at the younger guy on the right, while sending a kick to the one on the left. As they fumbled to fight back, I alternated my kicks to Leftie's stomach, then to Rightie's groin. When I saw that Oldie was reaching for a gun under his jacket, I turned and kicked him right across his face.

While they're scrambling around, I grabbed the briefcase that had been tossed onto the floor, before I realized that the machine had been flung off a few feet away. Before I could reach it, I felt my hair being pulled back painfully, and looked up to see Leftie sneering at me. I ducked just in time, sending Leftie's punch into thin air. Squirming from his grasp, I glimpsed Oldie exiting the door with the machine as I landed a punch to Leftie's throat. He gasped for breath, and I took that chance to make my way to the door, kicking Rightie's stomach on the way.

'Susannah! What is going on?'

I looked to my left and right, and saw Oldie running down the passage into the crowded convention centre with the machine. I followed him, managing to say, 'The STM guy got the machine. I'm going after him!'

'Susannah, no!' Jesse sounded mad. 'The scrambler's time is up, you need to leave now! The security can see you!'

'Kinda too late for that, I think,' I replied breathlessly, running into the crowded hall, keeping my eyes on the guy at the same time.

'_Nombre de Dios_, this is not a –'

But I wasn't listening. Because Oldie just collided with an Apple computer display, and he was sprawled on the carpeted floor, the coding machine flying out of his grasp. It landed under a table stacked with brochures and CDs.

People were oohing and aahing over his fall, but I rushed past him and grabbed the machine from under the table.

Yes!

As I straightened up with the machine in my hand, I saw some guys running towards me. I figured that Leftie and Rightie had recovered from my assault and it was best that I run for my life now, especially since Oldie was shouting into what looked like a walkie talkie. So I turned and took off down the first hallway and down the escalator.

'I'm making my way to the parking lot now!' I yelled, but before Jesse could answer, I saw that I was wrong about that.

Just as I stepped through the glass doors, a black car swerved to a stop in front of it, and out came three Leftie-Rightie Clones, all looking menacingly at me.

My eyes widening at this surprise, I turned and ran back inside. With the footsteps of the real Leftie and Rightie just making their way down the escalator, I had no choice but to run straight into the shopping mall.

'Change of plans!' I gasped, still running, past the Guccis and Miss Selfridges and House of Bonias, making me realize that my wish to come into the mall had come true, though not in the way I wanted it to be. 'Some STM agents just appeared in the lot, meet me at the main entrance of the mall!'

'We're on our way,' Jesse responded, not sounding so mad now. Whatever. I have bigger things to think about, like where the hell is the main entrance again?

I slowed down, adjusting to the view and mentally running through the plan of the mall.

I'm in the….South, and the entrance is in the 2nd floor of the North side! Okay.

Just in time too, because as I started to run again, I could hear shouting behind me, and saw that Leftie, Rightie and the Clones were in my pursuit.

I ran as fast as I could, clutching the machine tightly in my hand as I dodged couples, families, teen punks and various assortment of people having a Saturday visit to the mall. I could feel stares and words being thrown around, no doubt regarding this crazy woman whose jacket was almost off her shoulder, hair flying crazily in a half-bun, running from what looked like a bunch of Chinese mafias.

Doesn't matter. I could see the entrance on the level above, and I dashed up the main staircase, the Clones right behind me. Without looking back, I ran to the main entrance, my stomach starting to get a stitch on the left side.

I SO need to improve my stamina.

I could hear the footsteps becoming closer, but I reached the main entrance just as a white van screeched to a halt on the path at the bottom of the steps. The door slid open to reveal an anxious-looking Jesse, and I skipped the last couple of steps to leap into the van, the Clones just a few feet behind me. Jake hit the gas, and the van sped off, Jesse slamming the door shut.

- A. M. A. I. -

**Kuala Lumpur to Los Angeles**

'You should have listened to me! You broke every single protocol –'

'I did not break the protocols! I followed exactly as we planned!'

'No, you did not. You didn't leave, even when the STM agents were coming, and –'

'Of course not, I had to get the machine –'

'– and you chased after the agent even when I specifically told you not to!'

'You can't tell me what to do, so don't even _try_ –'

'I was telling you what _we_ were supposed to do, which was a tactical mission, not a -'

'I know that! But the mission was to get the machine, and that's what I did!' I snapped, my voice near to a shout.

'The mission was to get the machine without jeopardizing your life or breaking the protocols!' Jesse replied angrily, struggling to keep his voice down.

I stopped and took a deep, _calming_ breath. Count to 10, Suze. Count to 10.

Lowering my voice to its normal tone, I said, 'What bothered you more, Jesse? That I had not followed the rules or that I could have been killed?'

He also took a breath, his stormy eyes softening. 'These two things are not mutually exclusive, Susannah. If you follow the rules, then your life will not be at risk. It's as simple as that.'

I let out a short laugh. How absurd did that sound, following the rules when everything that I'd done as a CIA agent was to basically break them?

Even as a mediator, I was breaking all the rules like a bull let loose in a crystal shop.

'No, Jesse. I don't think it's as simple as that.'

'So you would go around, doing everything your own way? Regardless of the risks that you put not just onto your life, but to the mission and to DN-9?' Jesse demanded, his face darkening again, and I knew that this argument would never end if neither one of us wanted to give in.

Hell if that was going to be me.

'I do follow the rules, okay? I've been in the CIA for five years, so don't treat me like I'm some kind of a newbie. I learn the rules, and I follow them. But I also learn to bend them, to be flexible in case anything like this happens. At the end of the day, my mission was accomplished, and that's all that mattered,' I said, a bit long-windedly.

Jesse didn't look convinced. 'So you're saying that you will do whatever it takes to achieve your missions?'

'Why not? Isn't that what we're supposed to do?'

He didn't answer, but just stared at me. I stared back, even though it was hard to do so without feeling uneasy. I mean, his eyes were smoldering and whatnot, while mine were probably just…flat.

Then he said in a matter-of-fact way, 'Are you sure that this isn't a way for you to seek some cheap thrills?'

What the hell was he talking about? 'What?'

'All of these…risking your life intentions. Are you sure that you're doing it for the sake of the missions, or for your own pleasure? Just a slight hint of danger to an otherwise routine assignment, isn't that so?'

I swallowed, not believing the audacity of this man.

'That is NOT so!' I almost yelled. 'How dare you go around making assumptions about me? You don't know me! You don't know what gives me pleasure and what don't! So please, save your psychoanalysis talk to some other naïve, new agent, because I'm not buying this. Everything I do is for my country and for the CIA, not for myself!"

I was breathing hard, my face hot. My hands hurt, and I realized that I had clenched my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into my palms. I relaxed my hands, trying to bring down my blood pressure to a non-fatal level.

Suddenly, I felt sorry for Jake, who was sitting near the front of the plane, pretending not to listen to us bickering. I'm sure he wished he hadn't taken up on this mission now.

Jesse just continued to stare at me in that unreadable expression. Then annoyingly, he shrugged and said carelessly, 'If you say so. I am not the one needing the convictions. I do not need to know more than I do right now.'

I glared at him. 'Oh? So you think you know enough about me? Well, I've known enough about you too, and you know what, being a stickler for rules is so last century.'

His unreadable gaze seemed to harden for a moment, before fading. 'Rules can save lives, Susannah. If you can't accept that, then I guess you don't value your life as much as you should.'

Then he walked away from me, to the front of the plane.

I sat down on the seat heavily, feeling incredibly frustrated. GOD.

So maybe I shouldn't have chased after the agent, but at that moment, getting the machine was all I wanted. I thought I could prove that I was a great CIA agent, but it looked like it had backfired tremendously.

I didn't know what Jesse's problem was. It wasn't like I was in actual danger, I mean, those STM agents didn't even open fire on me or anything. True, that might have been due to the crowd, but the same principle applies. Yet he acted like I was on the verge of falling down the side of a cliff or something.

I wanted to believe that maybe he was acting like this because he cared about me, but I knew it wasn't that. It was because he wanted to be _right_, wanted to show me that I was still inadequate in some ways to be his partner.

And that talk about me getting cheap thrills. As _if_!

Then a small voice reminded me how much I missed ghost-hunting after I lost mymediating ability during my freshman year in college. For the first time since I was born, my life was free of ghosts. I was normal. I was like everyone else, for a whole year.

And I was bored to death of it.

So yes, I did initially accept CIA's recruitment offer because I thought it would be fun. But I had never treated any missions or assignments that I was given as something trivial. I never risked my life unnecessarily.

Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe being in the CIA compensates for that mediator part in me, missing as it was. The part where butt-kicking ghosts was a release from my daily life, just like being a spy is now.

I looked out the window and gazed at the clouds, wondering if Jesse knew how close he had come to guessing the truth.

* * *

**Thanks for all the suggestions for places! I shall evaluate each one.**

**Bridget – I can't watch Alias, I don't live in the US! We're only up to Season 4 now. But yeah, I know about Vaughn, and it sucks.**

**Reviews are much loved!**

**Loves, Aina.**

_**Disclaimer - All Mediator characters belong to Meg Cabot, while all Alias characters belong JJ Abrams**_


	5. Page 5

**Los Angeles**

It was almost 8 in the evening when I reached home, and Cee Cee was just leaving to have dinner with Connor.

I hinted to her about asking Connor what he's been up to, and Cee Cee promised to do so. After she left, I showered, made some dinner and promptly fell asleep, exhausted after the flight from Kuala Lumpur, made even worse with the argument I had with Jesse and the constant need to ignore him.

I guess that explained the dream I had that night about being trapped in a burning plane with Jesse, who gave me a parachute and told me that he'd rather die in the plane than be stuck working with me again.

Which pretty much summed up our 'relationship'.

When I woke up the next morning, Cee had left for work so I didn't manage to catch up on her date. But I decided to hound her over the details later.

As soon as I arrived at my desk at DN-9 and even before I switched on my computer, an agent informed me that Dominic wanted to see me. I felt a lurch in my stomach, wondering what Dominic could possibly want, but made my way to his office nonetheless.

I knocked on the door and entered the office after Dominic told me to come in. His gray suit looked as impeccable as his suits usually were, and he was reading a file. He smiled when he saw me, and gestured for me to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"How are you today, Susannah?"

I smiled, even though my heart was thumping pretty madly. "I'm fine."

He closed the file, placed it on his desk and then placed his hands together on top of it, seeming like he was forming the right words to tell me.

I had a sinking feeling that I knew what he was going to say.

"I've read your report about the trip to Kuala Lumpur, and I'm very pleased that it went well. The coding machine is currently in the Analysis Section where they will determine if it has actually been used by STM to decode any person's DNA for their own purposes. So good work, Susannah," Dominic said, smiling.

I nodded and said, "It's my job," but I was waiting for the moment where Dominic goes "But…"

"However…" he said instead.

Here we go.

"I am not happy with the information I gathered after reading the mission report I received from Agent Jesse de Silva. According to the report, you failed to follow the protocols that had been laid out for the mission, which resulted in a public incident at the Convention Centre. Would you like to explain yourself, Susannah?" His blue eyes were sharp, but he didn't look angry. Just disappointed.

That just made me feel even worse.

I sighed, shifting in my seat as I tried to form a justification for my behavior. "Dominic, the mission was to obtain the coding machine, and that was what I did. I admit that it got out of control, but I was able to manage the situation. Isn't that's what matters?"

"It was specifically stated in the plan that this is not an offensive mission. I admire your…_tenacity_, Susannah, and that is one of the reasons why I recruited you into DN-9. But I'm sure you're aware that as undercover CIA agents, we want to attract the least public attention to ourselves as possible. We don't act on impulse, especially when civilians could be involved," he said seriously.

He thinks I have 'tenacity'? I'd never been described that before.

"I'm aware of that," I answered. "But at the same time I'm aware that my mission was getting the machine, and so I tried my best to achieve that."

"Even at the expense of getting hurt in the process?"

I started to feel annoyed at the way he seemed to treat me like I was a kid, the way Jesse does. I knew that I was the new person in the Section and all, but it wasn't like I had never done this before.

And I was starting to wonder what exactly did that stickler Jesse wrote in his report.

_My new partner has no regards for rules, and I hope you can set her straight. She needs to know that rules are everything, and she also need to show respect to people around her, blah blah blah…_

"Look, I didn't get hurt, and I don't know what Jesse told you, but it went well, considering all things. I know you're the boss and that we barely know each other beyond my own profile record, but could you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?"

He stared at me, as if considering my words. Then he said, "I would give you a chance, because I understand how hard it must be for you to adjust to a new workplace. But Susannah, you must know that acts like these are not only dangerous for you, but at the same time it will not establish trust between any agents involved. If you and Jesse are going to be working together, don't you think that you two need to establish a fundamental trust from the beginning?"

I knew he was right.

But the thing was, I never had any problems with my partners previously. Aaron Dallas in Langley was a great guy, and then Sydney, even though she wasn't officially my partner, she was cool. I never had problems working with any of the other agents. I even got along with Jake, even though I've only known him for several hours.

It's just with Jesse, it was like we were oil and water. Maybe the reason why I couldn't get along with him was due to him not wanting to get along with me either. I felt like I was stuck in a freaking soap opera.

_General CIA_. _All My Agents_. _The Bold and The Annoying._

"Yes, I agree. But don't worry, Jesse and I, we're like best friends already," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

But Dominic either didn't realize I was being sarcastic or he was ignoring it, because he just said, "Then I look forward to better review of you in future mission reports."

I almost gave another sarcastic remark, but then thought maybe I was pushing it. So I got up and left the room.

As I was walking to my desk, I had that feeling when you feel like someone was looking at you. I glanced around, and saw Jesse staring at me as he listened to another agent explaining stuff to him. I narrowed my eyes at him and turned away, feeling really irritated that he had said unfavorable things about me in his report.

I bet he was _damn_ happy that I just got a lecture from Dominic about my behavior. Ugh.

At least I wasn't stuck with him in a plane, so I ignored him, sat down at my desk and started to do my work.

Lunchtime came around, and I left the office to have my lunch at a nearby café. I would have asked David or maybe Carl to join me, but I just felt like spending some time alone instead of with another CIA person. I was used to being alone anyway.

The thought of asking Jesse to have lunch with me never even crossed my mind.

Well, now it has, but it didn't before.

I chose a seat besides the large ceiling to floor window at the café which looked out at the streets, and flipped open my planner as I waited for my order. Iwas checkingthe dates for any important events when I realized that I haven't been to New York in almost 3 months, and felt a stab of regret. I used to visit NY every month, but the whole transition from APO to DN-9 has taken more of my time than I realized.

I ate my lunch while contemplating if I could ask Dominic for permission to go to NY if there weren't any missions in the works.

It was funny that I was thinking about it, because as I was paying the bill, I happened to glance outside the window and saw someone across the street who was a part of NY as much as I was. I was so surprised, I nearly dropped the coins that I was placing in the leather-bound bill book.

_Mom. _

At first I thought I must have imagined it, but I looked again and it _was_ her. She was wearing a simple blouse and slacks, along with a soft jacket. Her hair was let loose over her shoulders, and she didn't look much different than when I last saw her.

I watched her looking at the fruits outside of a vegetable shop, a mixed bag of emotions running through me. There was curiosity at why she was here in LA, disappointment at the fact that she didn't inform me that she was coming, and then the realization that she didn't have to tell me anything because we haven't kept in touch during the last 5 years.

And it was partly of my own doing.

Exiting the café, I stood uncertainly, weighing the pros and cons of approaching her. But then the desire to talk her was more profound than the potential squabble we might have, so I took a deep breath and crossed the street.

She was looking at the selection of apples intensely, and I wondered how long she was planning to stay in LA, since she was shopping for food. She didn't see me.

"Mom."

She turned with a surprised look on her face, before meeting my eyes. Up close, she looked much older than I remembered, but she had aged gracefully, looking as attractive as ever.

For a split second, I had this fear that she will forget who I was. But then she broke into a small smile and said, "Suze."

I smiled back, relieved, and asked what I thought should be asked, "How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. How about you?" I realized that her smile looked a little guarded, like she was unsure why I was talking to her after all these years.

I felt the same way.

"I'm great," I answered, then paused, not sure if I should bring up the fact that we haven't seen each other in a long time, or just ignore that fact. It was glaringly obvious anyway, but I didn't feel comfortable to lament on forgotten pasts and bygone years.

Instead, I decided to say, "What are you doing here in LA?"

"Oh, I'm on my book tour, this is one of my stops," she said, and I remembered looking at her book on journalism at one of the bookshops a few weeks ago. After she had stopped working in front of the camera, she mainly gives talk and writes books.

I knew all these from her website.

She continued, "I would have contacted you, Suze… but I didn't know how to reach you."

I could tell she was trying to pin the blame for our estrangement on me, even though I knew that she knows she had a hand in that too. It wasn't completely my fault.

So I said indifferently, "I've been really busy. I got a new job, changing offices and all that, so it's been hectic."

"Oh really? Where are you working now?" She actually looked interested.

With my mom, sometimes I never can tell if she was being real or if she was faking. She just had this neutral kind of face, so long been practiced to having an unbiased expression as she reported about all kinds of news, so it was hard to determine what she was thinking sometimes.

I wondered briefly what her reaction would be if I tell her that I was working for the CIA, but obviously I didn't. "I'm working at Kent Advertisings, it's one of the top advertising companies in the West Coast."

She smiled again. "That's great."

That old pessimistic side of me cropped up, making we wonder whether she was really happy for my work, or just happy that I was being 'normal' for a change. Living a normal life, wearing normal clothes, going home at normal times.

If only she knew.

"It is. I love my job," I said, smiling back. I knew she wanted badly to ask about that certain sensitive subject, and wondered if she was going to bring it up.

She did.

"So…you haven't had any visitations?" Her tone was light, but her eyes were curious, and a little demanding. She wasn't asking for an answer, she was asking for the answer _she_ wants to hear.

And I realized all over again the reason why we lost touch in the first place.

But I kept the resentment away from my voice, and answered truthfully, "No. Not since Gina."

She looked really relieved, and again, I imagined mentioning the CIA thing just to let her know that no longer being a mediator didn't stop me from breaking into buildings and scuffling with other people. Mom was the only person who knew about me being a mediator besides Gina and Cee Cee, and unlike them, she never _once_ saw the good in it. She saw it as a curse of some sort, and demanded that I stopped all these mediation activities, demanded that I started acting like a normal teenage girl. She said that if I continued with it, someone would get hurt.

The fact that she was right still had me reeling from the guilt every time I remembered her words. But she didn't need to know that.

"That's good. I know you may not like it, but –"

"Mom, it's fine. You don't have to tell me the merits of no longer being visited by ghosts, I'm quite aware of that," I cut her off, not wanting her to rub the fact that I had lost my mediation gift – yes, gift, not a curse – in my face.

She hesitated, looking disconcerted. But she recovered and said, "I just want you to be happy, Suze."

I looked at her and stated firmly, "I _am_ happy."

"Then I'm glad."

There was silence, and I finally broke it, saying, "I have to get back to work. Maybe we can catch up over dinner or something…"

"I think I'm going to be quite busy here, tomorrow's my last day in LA. But of course, if I ever come back, or if you come to New York by any chance, we can sit down and chat properly." Her smile looked genuine this time.

"Okay. Here's my number, call me, if you ever, you know, come back." I handed her my card. She placed it in her handbag, and then gave me her number in NY.

After the exchange of numbers, I wasn't sure how to leave, whether to wave at her or to hug her, and so I stood there awkwardly.

But she reached over and gave me a hug.

"I'm so happy you came and talked to me, Suze. I missed you," she said, sounding quite emotional.

I hugged her back, and said sincerely, "I missed you too, Mom."

We let go, and I waved at her as I walked away.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about my mom, but I realized that she was only being a mother who wanted to look after her daughter. I didn't like the way she viewed my mediating ability, as if it was something that could be rejected as easily as throwing away a piece of gum. Since my dad's death when I was 6, she's been overly protective of me, and I guess the idea of me growing up and getting into trouble with the police for the sake of the dead was just not appealing to her.

But she was still my mother, and in a way I was glad that we were talking again.

I arrived at the office in a better mood, and was just sitting down at my desk when the same agent who told me that Dominic wanted to see me in the morning came by and said that there was a briefing at Conference Room 1. I took a few seconds to feel sorry for him having to act as a messenger, before the impact of his message hit me.

Another briefing?

Quickly walking to the room, I reached the door at the same time as Jesse did. I refused to look at him and allowed him to push the door first, but instead of walking through it, he stepped back to let me in. Startled at this act of gentlemanliness, I glanced up at his face, but his expression was unreadable so I went ahead into the room and sat down at the table, where David and Dominic were already seated.

Maybe Jesse was trying to make a truce with me. I was going to have to consider that, if he was.

Jesse sat beside me, and when Dominic saw that we had settled down, he clicked the remote. A picture of a blond, blue-eyed woman flashed onto the plasma screen behind him, and on the laptops in front of us.

"This is Alanis Grant, an international jewel thief from Vancouver. She was caught trying to sneak out the Crimson Ruby from the Graben Jewels in Vienna, and is currently in CIA custody. The reason she's under CIA's charge is due to her previous activities. She was freelancing for several black market jewel groups who were willing to pay millions for various renowned precious stones, and we know that she was supposed to complete a delivery for Crimson Ruby's unidentical twin, Ocean Sapphire – both designed by the same Austrian jewellery designer – to one of her clients."

My visions of New York flew away from my head.

"Am I going to Austria?" I asked, reluctantly.

Jesse bristled, and Iguessed he thought that I shouldn't interrupt Dominic. As if I cared what he thinks. But Dominic didn't look like he minded. Instead he shook his head and clicked on the remote, changing the picture to a red-bricked building at the end of a busy street.

"You're going to somewhere nearer," he said. "This is a picture of the Washington DC branch of Sun Trust Bank, where Grant has an account there under the name of Amanda Gannis. We managed to get her account number, but she refuses to cooperate in terms of removing the jewel from the safe deposit and handing it to us, which is not entirely surprising. We believe that her client may be suspicious if she hasn't contacted them, in which case they would make the contact themselves. In order for this to happen, however, we need to make them think that she has taken the jewel without their knowledge."

"Our task would be to get the jewel, but without letting the bank or anyone involved know that the sapphire is in the government's hands so that Grant's client would surface, and we can move in to capture them. Your mission, Susannah, is simple. You would pose as Alanis Grant, or more accurately, Amanda Gannis, and retrieve the jewel from the bank."

I nodded, in relief and in understanding of the mission. Perhaps I can stop by in NY after finishing my work in DC.

David stood up for his tech briefing. "Suze, this is a relatively simple mission so you'll only need a couple of things. In order to open the safe in Sun Trust, you'll need two keys. One for unlocking the safe and another one for opening the latch which will allow the safe to slid out from the main safe system. Because we don't have the keys to the safe deposit, you'll need to pick through it, but without causing any harm to the safe itself."

He held up a metallic pen. "So, I have a pen here, which is actually a magnetic rod, which will turn the tumblers of safe lock from the inside. Once the tumblers have been turned, you can now move on to the latch. This is where this perfume comes in – " he held up a small pink glass bottle containing clear liquid, " – which is actually a chemical compound which eats away at metal. You'll need to spray this at the latch, and once it's dissolved, you can slide out the safe. Be careful though, you don't want the liquid to spill and dissolve all of the safes in the bank, because that would not only spoil your cover, but would also cost a lot of repair work."

I had to smile at that. And then I realized neither of them had mentioned anything about Jesse, and so I asked, rather hopefully, "Will I be alone in this mission?"

"Yes, you will be," Dominic answered.

Oh yes, yes, yes!

"But Jesse will come with you, in case anything happens at the bank."

_What?_

"I am perfectly capable of performing the mission on my own," I said in a somewhat sour tone, my excitement slipping away.

To his credit, Jesse didn't immediately protest to my indirect objection of him being there. Dominic had other ideas though.

"I'm sure you are, Susannah. However, it is best to be safe rather than sorry," said my boss, looking pleasant.

I bet he just wanted Jesse to be my babysitter, in case I decided to 'break the protocol' again or something like that. This is the worst part of working in a male-oriented workplace; everyone doesn't seem to think a woman is able to work independently without getting into trouble.

Especially if the woman caused a scene in her first assignment for the division, but that's beside the point.

I decided to just smile and agree with Dominic, since I had to ask him for a favor later anyway. When the meeting had adjourned and every one stood up to leave, I lingered, waiting for Dominic to be alone. After David and Jesse had left, I walked up to him.

"Dominic, may I talk to you for a moment?"

He looked up, and his expression was apprehensive, as if he expected me to start a rant about the mission. He was lucky that it was not the thought that was occupying my head.

Because Suze's rants? They can last an hour, maybe more, depending on the availability of my time. Which, considering the lack of mysocial life, I have plenty.

"Of course, Susannah."

"After completing the mission in Washington, would it be possible for me to stop by New York for a visit? I would not take long, and I would make sure the mission reports are sent to you before my stop," I explained.

"New York?" He looked puzzled. "Is there any particular reason you need to go there?"

"Well, it's my hometown, and I haven't been there in months. There are…some people I would love to catch up with, and I would cover the flight fare costs myself, so you don't need to worry about me using the government's money or anything. Do you think it'd be alright?"

He considered. "Well…I don't see why not. I do want you to know that back to back missions are usually rare in DN-9, but after these two missions, I understand your decision for wanting to take a break. Yes, you can stop by New York after completing the Washington mission, but be back as soon as possible."

I beamed, feeling like I could hug him. But I've had enough hugs for today after the Mom Encounter, so I just said, "Thank you!" and rushed out of the office.

I was excited about the mission in DC, as I am usually excited about all my missions, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't more excited by the prospect of returning to the Big Apple, to where I still think of the place to call home.

* * *

**Okay, I know that the series finale for Alias has just been aired in the US, but we'd just finished Season 4 here, so please don't bombard me with spoilers for the finale! I would rather wait and watch it when it comes here :)**

**Thanks to Lauren (Crazy Freckles) for the suggestion of DC as a location!**

**Reviews are much loved!**

**Loves, Aina.**


	6. Page 6

"And what did he say?"

Cee Cee grinned. "He said that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone about it, but since I'd found out, he might as well come clean."

We were lounging on the living room couch, feasting on much-needed bowls of ice cream – mine caramel pecan and hers chocolate mint. I was interrogating – I mean, questioning – Cee Cee about Connor.

Apparently, he was planning to sign a contract with a national tourism magazine to write a monthly column on the topic of cities in Europe, which was basically his niche. His contract wasn't due to be completed until next week, but since Cee had asked him, he decided to tell her the truth.

"So he's very happy about it, I assume?" I asked, swirling the chocolate sauce with the melted ice cream in my bowl.

"What do you think? This contract not only would bring him extra income, but would also bring him recognition in the writing industry. Who knows…maybe I can share some of that success," she smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

I laughed, agreeing with her.

But I didn't feel happy.

Okay, so sue me for not believing what Connor told Cee Cee. It just didn't feel _right._

I totally get that he might want to keep the contract a secret, but what was that phone call about then? He specifically mentioned something about 'her' and 'her friends', which I don't think has anything to do with writing any columns in a magazine, especially on European cities.

I decided to try venturing into this highly dangerous topic. "Is he going to be working with anyone else?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Cool. So do you by any chance, know who his agent is?"

"Yeah, it's Marissa Parker. The same woman who represents Dennis Walker, you know, that guy who writes for famous people's autobiographies. Why?" Cee Cee glanced at me, a questioning look on her face.

"Oh, just wondering. Because I didn't know…" I said, shrugging as if it didn't matter.

But it did matter. His agent was a _woman_?

Have I been wrong all these time? Was he talking about his agent? I mean, it might have sounded suspicious, but then again, writers tend to be a bit strange, right?

Maybe I _was_ wrong about all this.

I really needed to stop being so suspicious and paranoid.

"Remind me again, where are you heading tomorrow?"

"Washington," I answered absent-mindedly.

"Again? Are you going to the same boring seminars?" Cee asked as she headed to the kitchen. She sounded displeased. "Do you get paid for all these anyway?"

Too late, I realized I told her that I was going to Washington when I left for Kuala Lumpur last week.

And now I was _actually_ going to Washington in a weird twist of fate.

"Um, yeah, it's a continuation from the last one," I said, scooping up the last spoonful of ice cream and got up to follow her. "Of course I get paid, it's part of my salary package."

I wasn't going to tell her about my planned trip to New York, because I knew she would ask me how I feel and be all sympathetic, which as much as I would appreciate the gesture, I just didn't like. I hated showing even a tiny bit of weakness because people can latch onto it and make all these assumptions about my feelings and my situations…

I knew that Cee Cee wasn't just one of those 'people', but if I could avoid a feel-sorry-for-Suze-session, then I would do it.

Besides, I was a mediator, and currently a CIA agent. I was far from weak, right?

"Ow!"

"What happened?" Cee asked, concerned.

I rubbed my hip where I had painfully bumped against the kitchen counter. So much for not being weak.

"Nothing," I muttered, rinsing my bowl and dumping it in the dishwasher. "Anyway, I won't be gone for long, a couple of days at most. Then we can finally go to that new restaurant that you've been dying to go to."

She scoffed. "I've been dying to go to? Speak for yourself, Simon. You're the one interested to go – and you know what, I don't blame you. The waiters look pretty cute. Unless of course…"

I looked at her, noticing her change of tone. "Unless what?"

Cee Cee feigned an innocent expression. "Oh nothing, just that unless you're busy with your hot new colleague, then I guess cute waiters aren't really in your radar now."

I glared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is he going to Washington too?" She turned to me, eyebrows raised.

"No," I lied.

She tsk-tsked. "What a shame. Being in a plane with a good-looking guy would have been quite fun, don't you think?"

Then with a knowing smile, she went off to the living room again, leaving me to brood alone in the kitchen.

Fun? I think _not_.

- A. M. A. I. -

**Washington, DC**

I looked up at the red building of Sun Trust Bank, fixing my clip-on earpiece/earring.

Since I had to be in close proximity with the bank employees, I couldn't afford to wear a normal earpiece as it would look suspicious. So David had fixed a nice looking pearl earring which conceals the communication device inside it for me to put on instead.

I was sitting on the front passenger seat of a CIA-issued car, and Jesse was in the driver's seat. We were parked at one of the parking spaces not far from the entrance to the bank, surveying the surrounding area.

"Susannah?"

"Got you," I answered, letting go of the earring and flipping down the sunshield to look at the mirror behind it.

I was a bit startled to see my reflection, forgetting for a moment that I had changed into my disguise as Alanis Grant/Amanda Gannis. My green eyes were blue from the colored contacts, and my hair was wavy blond, falling softly past my shoulders. I was wearing a light sleeveless summer dress, knitted cardigan and strapped sandals, all based on an outfit that Grant had worn from the footage of her visiting the bank previously.

Hmm, I didn't look too bad as a blonde. I checked to see that none of my brown hair was peeking out under the blonde wig, and then flipped the sunshield back up.

"I take it this will be easy for you," Jesse said, his tone light.

I paused. I wasn't sure if he was being sincere or if he was mocking me.

Truth was, it did appear as if he was trying to be civilized to me. We had taken a public flight and so I was prepared to endure the long silence in the duration of the flight. Luckily though, we got aisle seats so I spent most of the time playing Hangman with an 8-year-old girl who was sitting beside me. But even after we had landed and driven to the CIA safehouse where I changed into my outfit, he still acted neutral without displaying any signs of hostility towards me.

Maybe Dominic told him to lay off the new girl because even though she didn't follow protocol, she still rocks.

I doubt it, but whatever.

"We'll see," I said in answer to his statement, then opened the car door. Then the strangest thing happened.

I felt his hand on my arm.

I whipped my head around and stared at his warm hand, dark against my pale arm. He let go quickly, and I looked up at him, frowning.

Jesse hesitated, like he wanted to say something but changed his mind at the last minute. "Be careful," was all he said instead.

Confused, I wasn't sure what to make of this, but then I said, "I will" and got out of the car.

It took a second for me to regain my composure, and as I made my way across the street to the bank, I rubbed my arm where he had touched. It felt…foreign, for some reason. The spot on my arm where his hand had been, I mean. It didn't feel like it was a part of my body anymore.

What _did_ he want to say?

Shaking my head, I reminded myself that this wasn't a time to be thinking about him, and by the time I entered the bank, I was back to my ready state of mind.

Sun Trust Bank was empty from any customers, not surprising since it was just after its opening time. I walked up to the counter, putting a pleasant expression on my face.

"Hello," said the woman sitting behind the counter. Her name tag announced her name as 'Diane' and she was smiling professionally. "May I help you?"

"Hi. I'd like to access my safety deposit."

"Your name, please, miss?"

"Amanda Gannis," I replied, and then gave Grant's account number when she requested it.

As Diane keyed in the details, I casually surveyed the bank, checking all the cameras and making sure that I flipped my wig back across my shoulder, a gesture that I'd seen Grant did on one of her visits to the bank. If any of her clients were to view the footage from today, they'll be pretty sure that it was her, or at least that's what we hoped.

"You have the key, I presume?" Diane asked.

"Yes, of course," I said, but didn't make any move to show it to her since, obviously, I didn't have the key.

But she didn't see anything wrong with that, and she told me that I would be led to the deposit room at the back by one of her co-workers.

Sure enough, when I turned around, a huge, smartly-dressed older guy was standing behind me. He gestured to his left and said, "This way, please."

I said thanks to Diane and followed the guy as we went down a hallway before stopping in front of a large metal door. He tapped in the code on the keypad besides the door, and it clanked open from the inside. Moving forward, he pulled open the metal door and nodded to the vault. "Here you go."

I walked slowly into the room, hoping that he would leave me alone.

Sure enough, he told me to press a button on the inside of the door to alert the staff once I was ready to leave, or if I needed any help and someone will come by. If not, he said that I can take my time. I smiled and told him I understood.

Once I hear the metal door clanked again, I took in the room I was in. It was a medium-sized vault with rows and rows of metal drawers placed in the walls, and a metal table in the middle of the room with two chairs besides it. All of the drawers were numbered and had a single keyhole in the middle.

I said, "I'm in. No problem so far."

"Good," Jesse's voice came on, sounding a little… _bored_.

Jeez, it's not my problem if he had to wait in the car doing nothing while I actually get to do _something_.

That reminds me, I should tell him that even though we're partners, any physical contacts were only allowed if my life depended on it.

And why the hell was I thinking about him anyway?

Quickly scanning the drawers, I located the one with Grant's number on it near one of the corners of the room. Unclasping my purse, I pulled out the pen and unscrewed the cover, revealing the metal rod.

Slowly, I inserted the rod into the keyhole of the drawer until I could hear a faint click, before pulling it out and reaching into my purse again for the disguised perfume. Aiming the tiny nozzle at the metal latches on either sides of the drawer, I sprayed two quick shots before capping the perfume and placing it back in the purse.

I watched as the latches fizzled, then gripped the drawer and tugged at it. It held on for a moment, before giving in and sliding out easily.

"Susannah?"

I nearly dropped the drawer on my feet. Swearing, I heaved it onto the table and dumped my purse besides it. Then I snapped, "What, Jesse?"

"You weren't saying anything, I was wondering –"

"Everything's fine," I interrupted sourly, pulling out a small box from the drawer. "I need to concentrate, I'm going radio silent."

Then I clicked off my earring before he could respond.

_So_ annoying.

Taking a deep breath, I took off the top of the plastic box to see a small velvet pouch sitting on top of a bundle of velvet cloths. I picked up the pouch and pulled the string, tipping it on my palm.

Out tumbled the most brilliant gemstone I had ever seen, almost _glowing_ in its clear blue radiance.

"Wow," I breathed, wondering how much was the Ocean Sapphire worth. It was no bigger than a toenail, but I bet it must be reaching eight figures in value.

I placed it back in the pouch and put it in my purse, realizing that I had no time to admire its beauty. Then I closed the plastic box, put it into the drawer before picking up the metal drawer and slid it back into its original spot in the wall. Once it was in place, there was no way to know that it was actually taken out illegally, unless someone examines the latch real closely.

Nice work, Suze.

I fastened my purse and walked to the metal door, pressing the blue button besides it. Nothing happened, but after a few seconds there was the clanking sound again and the door was pulled open to reveal the same guy I had met earlier.

"I'm done," I told him in a cheerful voice as I walked past him, down the hallway leading to the front of the bank.

Diane was at the counter, and she asked, "All complete, Miss Gannis?"

"Yes, thank you," I replied, smiling as I exited the bank, now filled with customers waiting for their turn at the counters.

My heart light at the completion of a successful mission, I walked quickly across the street towards the grey car, idling in the parking space. Pulling open the door to the front passenger side, I got in, still slightly smiling.

That was before I was met with a scowl from the one and only Jesse de Silva.

And then I remembered what I had done.

"Look –" I started.

"You _never_ go radio silent unless the agent you're communicating with has approved it," Jesse said in a very irritated voice. His expression was best described as stormy.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "I know, I didn't mean to –"

"Do you know how much of a risk you're taking every time you go on radio silent?"

I turned to glower at him. "_Yes_, I know. Would you kindly not speak to me like I'm a freaking kid? God. Okay, I'm sorry that I went radio silent without your approval, it's just that you startled me when your voice suddenly came on and I nearly dropped the heavy metal drawer on my feet, which would really suck because then I'd be injured and stuck doing desk work for God knows how long, so I decided to go radio silent so that I wouldn't be distracted from what I was doing and make any mistakes. Next time I promise to only go on radio silent when you've said it's alright to do so, okay?"

Jesse's face looked blank, and he muttered, "_Nombre de Dios_…."

"What? You don't believe me? I told you, I promise –" I started again, but he stopped me.

"No, no, Susannah…I would believe you, if I knew what it is you just said," Jesse told me, looking bewildered. "I've never met anyone who spoke as fast as you did."

But if I wasn't mistaken, his dark eyes also had a hint of amusement in them.

I stared at him. "Oh." Then I repeated what I just said, in much slower speed.

He nodded, finally understanding what I was trying to tell him. "Alright. I didn't mean to be hard on you, Susannah. It's just that...I needed to be prepared in case anything goes wrong."

"You're right," I admitted. "I guess I just got too lost in the moment."

"That's… understandable," he said slowly.

"Next time I'll communicate what I'm doing so you know I haven't dropped dead or anything."

"I would appreciate that."

"And I forgive you for giving a bad report about me to Dominic."

Now he definitely looked amused. "But I never said I was sorry."

"I know," I said, figuring out the reason he had grabbed my arm earlier. "But you are."

Jesse looked at me silently, his expression suddenly unreadable, as if he had shut out his emotions in an instant. I looked back at him, thinking how although I couldn't stand him most of the time, he was still the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my 26 years of living. And I was also wondering if I had enough guts to ask him whether he thought I was as incompetent as he seemed to think I was.

I didn't. Have enough guts.

He finally said, "I guess we'll just have to learn to understand and trust each other."

Then he faced the front again, shifted gears and maneuvered the car out of the parking space, before we sped off down the road back to the CIA safe house.

Understand and trust each other. That seemed easy enough, in time.

I hoped so.

We drove in silence, and all of a sudden I remembered the precious stone sitting forgotten in my purse. Unable to resist the desire to see it again, I unclasped my purse and pulled out the pouch. The stone toppled into my palm once again, now sparkling with even more luminosity under the sunlight.

"So that's the famous Ocean Sapphire?" Jesse commented, noticing my action.

"Yeah," I said softly, awed once again by the brilliance of the stone. "Have you ever seen anything more beautiful than this?"

Jesse didn't reply.

It was a rhetorical question, but I had expected some kind of a smart-aleck answer so I was a little surprised that I received none. I took my eyes off the stone and glanced over at him. For some reason, he had that amused expression again. But he still didn't say anything.

Okay. Whatever rocked his boat.

When we arrived at the small two-storey house, I changed back into my normal outfit of a simple top and jeans, and took off the wig. It was just before noon, and I realized that if I leave to New York now, I would arrive just after lunchtime, which was perfect.

I zipped my bag and exited the bedroom. Jesse was waiting in the living room, finishing a call on his cell phone. Then he turned towards me.

"There's a flight at 3, and if we leave now we can make it to the airport in time. You're finished here, right?"

I stopped in my tracks, realizing that he had no idea I wasn't going back to LA with him. "Um, Jesse, didn't Dominic tell you? About my trip?"

His brows knitted in confusion. "What trip?"

"I'm going to New York, on a private visit. I had cleared this with Dominic, he said I can go as soon as I was done here," I explained. I had assumed that Dominic would have informed Jesse about this, but I guess he didn't think it mattered, or maybe he just forgot.

Jesse let out a breath. "Dominic didn't inform me. You are going on a private visit, you said?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's a…family thing."

No need to go into details, I thought.

"How are you going there?"

"I'm renting a car from a rental company that has an office here and one in NY, so that I can leave the car when I was done and take a flight back to LA from there. Most likely I'll be taking a red eye tonight," I said.

"Well," Jesse said, looking a little uncertain, "then I'll take that 3 o'clock flight to Los Angeles."

"Okay."

But Jesse still wasn't budging from his spot. "How are you getting the rental car?"

I smiled, even though I was a little worried with all his questions. I really hope he wasn't going to stop me from driving to NY.

"Their office is about a block away from here. I'll be walking, obviously. Look, don't worry about me, you go on. You can't miss your flight."

He nodded and gathered the files that he had opened all over the coffee table along with the secure container containing the sapphire, before he made his way towards the front door. I followed him outside and watched as he locked the door, then walked to the car.

"I can drop you off, Susannah," Jesse offered.

I shook my head. "It's alright. I'd rather walk, it's a nice day. I'll see you back in LA."

Then I headed down the path, and turned left to go down the street. After I'd been walking for a while, I turned back to see the grey car reversing out of the driveway and slowly moving to the opposite direction from me.

I shifted the strap of the bag on my shoulder, thinking that maybe things were looking up for me after this. Jesse and I seemed to have come to an understanding about our partnership.

I had no idea that I was so wrong.

* * *

**Yes, I stole that hand-on-arm scene from Shadowland. ****I love that scene!**

**The World Cup is here, people! Why aren't you all excited? Come on, the biggest sporting event in the world after the Olympics is finally here after four long years! Get into the Football Fever! ****-runs around kicking a football-**

**Oh, thanks to all my reviewers! Your reviews are a delight for me to read! Keep them coming!**

**Love, Aina.**


	7. Page 7

**New York**

It was around 3 when I reached the city, and the traffic was manageable as it was after lunchtime. I drove my rented car leisurely, taking my time in the hectic atmosphere and the busy streets filled with people rushing off to somewhere.

I had no reason to rush to where I was heading.

Leaving the city and turning into a quieter street, I parked my car outside of an Italian restaurant called Da Silvano's. I haven't been here in a long time, but as soon as I stepped in, the familiar scent of carbonara sauce and pizza dough made me realize how much I'd missed eating here. It was my parents' favorite restaurant, and when my dad was still alive we came here almost every week to eat dinner or lunch.

After my dad died of heart attack when I was 6, my mother and I stopped coming here. I guess it was just too painful for her while for me, I couldn't imagine coming here without both of my parents.

It wasn't until after I've graduated from high school that I forced myself to come to Da Silvano's again, because I realized that I had a lot of good memories of both my dad and my mom in this very restaurant.

I didn't mean to make it sound as if my mom had also died. As I spoke to her a couple of days ago and she was clearly not glowing, she was very much alive. But we drifted apart after dad died, burying herself in her work and leaving me alone to take care of myself. Which was good for my mediation activities, until she found out about it and forced me to quit with the reason that I was going to hurt myself and other people if I continued.

Tell me, how was I supposed to just quit being a mediator?

But as I discovered much later, I could. Although it came with a terrible price.

I ordered lasagna and ate my lunch at one of the tables outside of the restaurant under the shades of its awning. The restaurant was famous for its outdoor seating arrangement, and I blended it amongst the boisterous families and executives from the offices around the block.

When I was done, I paid the bill and left, feeling very sorry to leave the comfort of the restaurant into the bustle of the city. I decided to leave my car where it was and walk to my destination.

It was a nice spring evening, the weather as warm as it was in Washington.

I hadn't been walking very farwhen I heard some commotion on the other side of the street, sounds of people yelling and shouting could be faintly heard in the distance. Then I saw a few guys running down the street, the second guy clearly shouting, "Stop, NYPD!" to the guy at the very front, who was blatantly ignoring the plain-clothed police officer's warning and kept on running.

The situation looked tense, yet I couldn't help but smile a little as I watched the scene. I was used to seeing cops busting the chops out of some drug dealers or some random criminals back when I was living in NY, and it didn't look as if things had changed much.

I guess that's one of the things I like about New York. Everything was out in the open, unlike back in LA where it seemed like everything happened in the dark, out of the public eyes.

My thoughts were interrupted by screeching of cars as the supposed bad guy ran across the street to reach the side where I was walking. People backed away from him as he thundered down the sidewalk, the bypassers almost falling over themselves as they tried to stay out of police business. I watched him getting closer and closer, and being the good citizen that I thought I was, I did the right thing to do.

I stuck out my foot and tripped him.

The effect was better and with more spectacle than I predicted. Instead of stumbling, the guy went flying a few feet away before thudding heavily to the ground, yelling in shock. And then he just laid there on the dirty sidewalk, clutching his knee and groaning in pain.

I felt somewhat guilty, but the first police officer – a detective, maybe – who was chasing him rushed to where he was and quickly pushed the guy face-down on the ground, demanding, "How'd you like that?"

The guy didn't reply, he just groaned some more. But the young detective didn't show mercy as he cuffed him, pulled him to his feet and shoved him to one of the two uniformed officers who had caught up with him in the chase. He watched them go, then turned towards me where I was still rooted to the ground, no longer just a witness but a participant in the events.

"Thanks for that," he said in a very noticeable Brooklyn accent.

"No problem," I replied, my Brooklyn accent now non-existent.

"Danny Messer," he introduced himself, and stuck out his hand. I shook it and told him my name. I wasn't sure if chatting with civilians was encouraged, but I guess since the bad guy was caught, he wasn't in any rush to go back.

He was cute in this boyish way, with his spiky blond hair, goatee and glasses. Obviously he had a tough side to him from the way he took down the guy just now, but standing here in front of me, he even looked a little nerdy.

"You're a detective?" I asked, just to be sure.

For all I know, he was an actor acting out a scene in a TV show or something. With all the police shows based in NY, anyone could end up being an extra in one without even knowing it.

"Yeah, but I work in the Crime Lab, taking care of crime scenes and all that," he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Right, crime scene investigator," I nodded.

Then there was an awkward silence as I didn't know what to say, though it was quite obvious that he was waiting for me to say something. But what? I had no idea.

Finally he said, "So you trip bad guys on a daily basis?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Nah, I mean, you just tripped a guy, allowing the police to take him into custody and yet you don't even look half-excited by that."

Oh, I get it. That was what he was waiting for, me to start gushing over the criminal and the case like any normal person would.

I laughed a little. "Well, I work for the government. So I catch bad guys too, but in other ways."

And then it struck me how similar we were, both working for the government to catch criminals, only he worked on the front side of the force while I worked in the background. Actually, underground. But I had never met anyone who had a job even remotely similar to mine outside of the CIA.

It was strange, but rather comforting. Sure, I couldn't tell him who I was working for, but he was the only person who I had mentioned that I was working for the government and yet I didn't have to worry about the consequences.

"I get it," he nodded, his eyes twinkling. "FBI?"

I smiled, but didn't say anything.

"NSA?"

"I can't say," I replied, almost apologetically.

"Must be the CIA then," he said, grinning like he knew he was right. Which he was, but I wasn't going to tell him. I just smiled back, shrugging my shoulders just the way he did a few moments ago.

Oh God.

Were we _flirting_?

Instantly, my face began to feel hot as I realized that I _was_ kinda flirting with him. But could you really blame me? I mean, this was the first time a guy was trying to get to know me in God knows how many years.

Besides, he was kinda cute.

"Well, I gotta go finish up some boring paperwork," he said, and I felt my heart drop in disappointment. Of course he had to go do his work. This was just a courtesy chat.

Then he said casually, "If you're still around, I might pass by this way later."

His blue eyes were watching me from behind his glasses, and I felt my heart lifted, before dropping again.

I knew what he meant, what girl wouldn't know what he meant? I wanted to say yes, I really, really wanted to.

But remembering that I had to go back today, and the fact that the next time I would be back here would probably be in three months' time…I couldn't do it. Damn it. Just when someone was making a move on me.

"I'm sorry," I said, sounding really sorry. "But I'm just visiting from LA."

"Ah, I see. Looks like it's just not my day," he said, sounding disappointed but not as disappointed as I had hoped.

In fact, he just sounded sorry to be missing out on a date. I guess that was all I was, but still…

Suddenly I had a feeling that behind the glasses and the boyish good looks, Danny Messer wasn't the type of guy who had problems getting dates. At all.

"Yeah, I guess not," I said, unable to hide the smirk now forming on my lips.

"It was nice meeting you, Suze Simon." He smirked back at me, and I knew my hunch was right.

Trust me to ended up flirting with a total player.

"Likewise, Danny Messer," I said, and watched him strode down the walk before crossing the street and making his way back from where he came from.

I stood there for a moment, not sure whether to be happy or sad or both at what just took place. Still…a guy just flirted with me. It meant I was still desirable in some ways to the opposite sex, which was a relief. The way I'd been treated lately by certain male people, I thought maybe I had lost my femininity after hanging around in a testosterone-filled environment at work.

Feeling light by the encounter, I continued my way down the street, stopping by a florist to buy a bunch of flowers. Then I walked again, clutching the two bouquets of flowers in my hand.

After about a block, the office buildings made way for a clearing where green hills rose and spread across the horizon as far as the eye can see. The hills were located behind some fences and a huge gated entrance. I made my way to the entrance and entered through a smaller gate at the side, specifically made for visitors who were walking. Those who came by cars would have to wait for the caretaker to open the main gate for the cars to enter.

The cemetery was empty save from a few caretakers who were discussing the latest placements of plots, as expected on a weekday. As usual the lawn was well-maintained and the gravestones spotless.

I walked down the rows and rows of formerly living people, the feelings of complete ease coming naturally to me. I was used to going into cemeteries when I was a mediator, but the feeling of ease carried with me now even though I could no longer communicate with any remaining members of the Undead Club.

I stopped at a familiar grave, and smiled as I saw my dad's name written on the gravestone. As long as I could remember, all the memories I had of my dad were always filled with joy. He had never disappointed me, and even when he died, he had come back as a ghost and explained to me who I really was.

A mediator. A liaison between the living and the dead.

He was a ghost just for a day, staying back to tell me what I had already knew, but never understood. But it was enough for me.

I placed the sunflowers against the stone, because he told me he preferred sunflowers over the other flowers that they had placed on his casket. I asked him why, and he said because it reminded him of sunny days and happy times.

I guess everyone has a sentimental side.

After spending a few minutes just mentally talking to my dad, I slowly stood up, dreading what was coming next. It was never easy, not even after all these visits in all of these years.

Sighing, I walked down the rows again, searching for more recent plots compared to where my dad was buried. I finally found the grave I was looking for, and the joy I felt for my dad was gradually replaced by an overwhelming feeling of sorrow.

_In memory of  
Ge__orgina Augustin  
__(1980 – 1999)_

_Taken away  
__Like stars from night  
__Like sun from day_

I dropped down to my knees and placed the lilies against the stone just like I did with my dad's grave, only this time my hands weren't as steady. Gina had mentioned once that she thought lilies were kick-ass flowers, but she never said why. And I didn't even know if she wanted them on her grave, because she didn't come back.

Gina, who knew what mediating ghosts were all about, didn't return as a ghost. Although it was good because it meant she had no unfinished business, I never felt that it was fair.

I sat back on the grass, my heart heavy with sadness and guilt.

How could I not feel guilty? I was the reason she was gone.

When she wanted to visit me in UCLA during my freshman year, I should have said no. I should have told her not to come, because I knew the ghost I was dealing with at that time was volatile and dangerous.

But selfishly, I wanted her to be alongside me, because she was the only one who knew that I was a mediator and did not judge me for it, unlike my own mom. Looking back, it was a mistake to treat Gina like my ghostbusting partner, but I just never thought it would end in such a horrible way. Until today, Gina's parents thought she fell of the roof of the university, having no idea that it was a ghost who had pushed her. And they will never know the truth.

My mother blamed me, of course. She kept saying, 'I told you someone would get hurt' and added on to the guilt that I was already feeling. After that, I just broke all contact with her, not able to stand the way she was making me feel.

My eyes started to well up and I wiped them roughly, hating the fact that I was crying, hating the fact that I knew my mother was right. But I was stupid. I didn't want to listen. And now Gina was gone.

The only positive thing that came out of it was that Cee Cee eventually knew the truth about me. She was intent on investigating Gina's death, trying to put the blame on the uni and the administration until finally I had to tell her what actually happened that night. She knew something was going on with the way I always disappeared off somewhere, going to class with a new bruise or bandage, but even she could not deduce the real reason why I was acting that way.

Only thing was, after the incident I couldn't bear to look at another ghost. Even hearing the twinkling of materialization made me repulsed. I had gotten rid of the ghost who had ruined my life, but in a way, I blamed all ghosts after that.

So I ignored them.

I ignored their visits, their apperances, their pleading. I acted like I couldn't hear or see them. I acted like I was like any other person. It wasn't easy, but I kept at it.

Soon the visits stopped. I couldn't see them, I couldn't hear them, I couldn't sense any sort of ghostly activities, nothing, nada. Just like that, I was no longer a mediator.

I had said goodbye to the only thing in my life which had defined me.

But I didn't stay normal for long because two summers later, the CIA recruited me and I found a place to belong again.

I leaned over and wiped some dirt off the gravestone, tracing my finger over Gina's name. I'd known her since we were kids, and yet sometimes I felt like I never really got the chance to know her.

The worst part was, it made me angry that she didn't come back to haunt me after she died, not giving me a chance to tell her how sorry I was. I felt like she had abandoned me to wallow in the guilt and the grief and all these emotional weight while she was off to a better place.

I lost track of the time while I sat there, just staring at the stone. It wasn't until the sun had started to set that I roused myself from my trance and stood up, brushing off the loose leaves and grass that had stuck to my pants.

Even though I was sure she couldn't hear me, I whispered, "Bye, Gina. I'll be back soon," and went off, rubbing my tear-stained face.

I made my way to the entrance, realising that I had to be at the airport in about an hour which means I had to hurry to my car that was parked about a block away. Walking quickly down the sidewalk, I looked at the street, preparing to cross it.

That's when I saw something which jarred my solitary moment of peace.

I froze, the quiet that I had been feeling shattered and replaced by tremendous noise in my head.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't freaking BELIEVE it.

My blood boiling off the charts, I crossed the street in a daze, blocking out the honking and the yelling from the drivers who had to brake suddenly to avoid hitting me. I didn't care.

I was _livid_, and someone was going to pay.

Marching up to the unmistakable grey car, I walked around to the passenger seat and was about to pull the door open, but the person inside had already got out.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" I yelled, ignoring the shocked looks of a group of teenage girls who were passing by.

"Susannah –" Jesse started, but I cut him off.

"Did you follow me here? No, you _stalked_ me, you – you bastard!" I was so outraged, I couldn't speak properly.

"Susannah!" He looked shocked. As if I _cared_ what he thinks. "I know how this looks, but I was only –"

"You were only WHAT? Following me to another state just to see what I was up to? What did you think I was up to? Didn't I tell you that it was a _private _visit? What part of _private _did you not get?"

My hands were shaking. I shoved them into my jacket, not wanting him to see how much he had surprised me, seeing him sitting in the car just like that.

"Yes, you told me that, but I thought –"

"You thought that I lied to you? Is that it? Or did Dominic ask you to be his own special spy?"

"Would you give me a chance to explain?" He looked annoyed that I kept cutting him off, like he deserved a chance to speak.

"NO! Who do you think you are, stalking me and then being mad that I'm not giving you the chance to talk?" I demanded, not caring that we were fighting in the middle of the street in plain view of others. "Did you think that I would meet up with some gang members or something? Because that's just like me, isn't it?"

He stared at me, as if waiting for me to cool down. Like hell I would.

"I don't know if that's like you because I don't _know_ you, Susannah. I followed you here because I was worried that something might happen –"

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "That is so absurd. You were worried that something might happen to me, or you were worried that I might do something wrong? Tell me the truth."

Jesse looked torn, like he knew I was right but wanting to deny it.

I was about to start yelling again, when I realised what I was going to say shouldn't be heard in public.

So I lowered my voice and said sharply, "In case you didn't know, which I doubt it, but in case you didn't know, the CIA has a division which has the sole purpose of tracking their agents and reporting back any suspicious activities. They don't need your help in doing their work!"

"That was not my intention, Susannah," he said firmly, but I didn't believe him. I didn't believe a word that was coming out of his mouth.

"Right. So you're standing there and telling me that you didn't have any suspicion that I might come to New York to meet with members of The Independence? Or an underground rebel terrorist group?"

He sighed. "I never said that, I just –"

But I didn't hear what he said next, because it just occurred to me that he had been watching me ever since I came from Washington. Everything, including...

"Wait a second. You saw me talking to that guy?" I asked, my face starting to heat up.

Jesse hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.

I had flirted with Danny Messer. I had eaten at the Da Silvano's. I had cried at the cemetery. And he had seen every, _single_ thing.

It was a humiliation beyond anything I had ever experienced.

"I know you're angry –"

"No you don't. You have no idea what you just did, do you, Jesse?" I said slowly, shaking my head.

For some stupid reason, tears were starting to pool in my eyes again, which made me even more embarassed and angry.

"You didn't just spy on me, your own _partner_, but you took away the only thing that I thought was free for me. Don't you understand? I knew the price I paid in joining the Agency, basically signing away my personal life but there are times when I'm allowed to be alone. This, coming to New York, _this_ is the only time where I could be by myself and indulge in whatever emotions I might have. And you had intruded on my most _private_ moment because you didn't have the guts to just ask me what it was that I needed to do here. You can't _know_ what that feels like. My most private…"

I stopped speaking because my voice had wavered at the end, losing the anger it had before. I swallowed and took a deep breath, blinking away the tears.

"Susannah…" His voice was gentle, but it made me sick. Listening to his voice, the voice that once actually made me feel reassured was now making me _sick_.

I looked back at him and snapped, "You told me that we should learn to trust each other. So tell me, Jesse, how do you expect me to trust you when you couldn't even trust me?"

He had no answer to that. Now he had begun to look regretful at what he did, but it was too late.

"You know what? I don't care what you think. In fact, I don't care what you say or do, because I don't want to talk to you and I don't want to see you again. Not now, not _ever_," I said with a final tone, then spun and walked away.

I had made a decision. He knew what he was doing and how wrong it was, and yet he still did it.

So I doubt he will be surprised when I hand in my request for a new partner.

* * *

**For those of you who watch CSI: NY, yes, that is Danny 'Drama Queen' Messer in a cameo right there. Sorry, I couldn't resist!**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter clears things up about Suze and her mom, and about how she lost her power. It all happened after Gina's death. I know that there was A LOT of explaining, so I hope I didn't bore any of you.**

**All feedbacks are welcomed!**

**Loves, Aina.**


	8. Page 8

**Los Angeles**

"I'm sorry, Susannah, but that is not possible."

I exhaled loudly, trying to keep my temper in check. Which was not easy, let me tell you. I was sitting in Dominic's office, trying to negotiate a change of partner for me after the recent 'events'. But instead of giving me full support like I thought he would, Dominic has refused to comply. And it was really getting on my nerves.

"Look, Dominic, I know that I just started working here for about a month and I just asked you for a favor regarding that New York trip, but I thought –"

"It is not that," Dominic interrupted me, which was slightly out of character. He usually just waits and listens to what I have to say. Maybe he'd gotten tired of hearing me rant about Jesse for the past 15 minutes. "I have told you, you and Jesse are the most experienced agents we have at the moment in DN-9, not including Carl Walden. That is why I chose you to be his partner in the first place. Besides, there aren't any other agents to take his place."

"Can't I swap partners with another agent? Jake Foreman, maybe?" I suggested hopefully.

Dominic was not amused, as if I has suggested swapping husbands and wives for a swingers' party instead. "Jake has his own partner, and no, there is no swapping of agents in this branch. You and Jesse will have to work out your differences and learn to work together."

"But he stalked me!" I cried out, not caring that my voice sounded high-pitched and weird. "What kind of an agent does that to his partner? It's wrong! Plus, very creepy!"

He sighed. "Yes, Susannah, you've made that very clear. I may be old, but please don't think I am deaf."

"Then you understand my position? I can't work with someone who can't trust me."

Fixing his bright blue eyes on me, Dominic contemplated before saying, "I am not going to excuse Jesse's actions, but you have to understand that he did what he did with your best interests at heart."

I snorted unattractively. It was something that I would never do in the presence of my co-workers but with Dominic, it was different. The reason why I felt completely at ease around him was unknown, but most of the time he was more like a friend to me, rather than a boss. Except when he's exercising his authority on me, like what he was doing now.

"Right. So it wasn't because he thought I was going to meet with STM agents, then?" I asked, making sure the sarcasm could be heard in my voice.

"I am sure that STM never crossed his mind," Dominic assured me in this grandfatherly tone. "I agree, he should have voiced his concerns with you –"

"Damn right."

"- but you know as well as I do that there was a chance of you refuting his questions. Am I wrong in this?"

Grumbling silently, I admitted in my head that Dominic was right. But still, Jesse could have just _asked_. Whether I answered his questions or not, it was my decision.

"I know this might be hard for you to acknowledge, but Jesse de Silva is a great agent and most of all, a good person. He still carries the burden of his last partner's misfortune with him and that might be the reason of his overly cautious behavior. You have to give him time before he can start trusting you on his own, an advice that I would also give to him, seeing that trust goes both ways."

Despite being really irritated, I was intrigued. I remembered that Jesse had mentioned his partner being permanently injured during our less-than-stellar conversation on the first day I arrived at DN-9, but I wasn't aware of the details.

"What happened to his partner? I know he was injured, but why do you say he carries the burden and all that?" I asked, my curiosity winning over my anger.

Dominic raised his eyebrows and gave a little smile. "I don't think it's in my place to tell you what happened. Perhaps one day Jesse will find it appropriate to tell you the story himself."

"Fine," I replied, giving a nonchalant shrug. "I don't need to know."

But of course I was lying. Being the ex-mediator as I was, I have a vast experience of snooping and finding secrets about ghosts, so I expect it would be same for a live person.

"Are we done, Susannah?"

That startled me. "But what about my problem?" I complained, this time successfully keeping my voice in the normal range, so I no longer sounded like the cousin of Alvin the chipmunk.

"You don't _have_ a problem," Dominic stated firmly. Then he must have seen something in my expression, because he sighed resignedly. "Alright, I will look into it. But I will not change your partner, Susannah, I have already told you why."

I slumped back in the chair. "I'd rather work with David. He's much nicer. And I bet he doesn't stalk people."

"That is also not possible." Dominic shook his white-topped head.

"Because he's not the most experienced agent? Because he has his own partner? Because you want me and Jesse to suffer together?"

"Because David is not field-trained," Dominic smiled, and I gave him a 'Haha, very funny' look.

But it was not funny, not when you were me. Even if David's not field-trained, I knew he could make it as an agent. He created most of the gadgets that all the agents use, anyway. I doubt that Dominic could see my point of view though, because he had failed to do so during this whole meeting.

At that point I decided I've done all I could to inform Dominic of my extreme displeasure, and let myself out of his office. My mood hasn't improved that much from the moment I went into his office, and it was probably my miserable state of mind that caused to bump hard into someone who was coming down the hall.

"Oh, sorry, Suze, I'm so sorry!" David blurted, scrambling down to pick up the papers that he dropped and then stood up again, his face beet red.

I suppressed a smile. He was so cute in his nerdy ways. Maybe that could be his weapon as an agent, distracting the bad guys with his apologies while his partner sneaks in and do whatever they had to do. "It's fine, my fault for not seeing where I'm going."

"My fault too, I wasn't looking. I was going through this papers, they just faxed it in, it has the DNA codes of all the people who participated in the Norton Experiment back in the 1980s, and Suze, you won't believe how some of the DNAs mutated –"

I was sure that the Norton Experiment was very interesting, but I just got an idea that would serve me better than some mutated people. So I stopped his speech and said, "David, do you have a minute? I need to ask you something."

David paused, looking surprised. "Sure. What do you need?"

I glanced around, deciding that we were standing in an open place where people could pass by us, and I didn't want to be interrupted. "Can we go to your office? It's more private there."

Now he looked puzzled as well as surprised. "Okay, sure."

We entered his office, and I closed the door before turning to him. "You've been working here for a year, right?"

When he confirmed it was right, I continued, "I was wondering if you know what happened to Jesse's last partner? I heard he was injured but what exactly happened?"

David frowned, trying to remember. "Well... I know that Alex got shot during one of the offensive missions -"

"I'm sorry, Alex? That's his first name?"

"Yeah, that's his name. Alex Jenkinson. He got shot in the back, but luckily they managed to bring him to the hospital and operated on him before he lost too much blood. But the bullet damaged one of his nerves and he couldn't walk properly after that. So he transferred to Langley to do desk job, since most of the administration work are done there. That's all I know," he explained.

I sat on his rolling chair and mulled over this. "Was Jesse a part of the team in that mission?"

"Yes, he and Alex were the ones who led the team, if I remember correctly."

Did Jesse see Alex getting shot and felt guilty that he couldn't prevent it? Maybe he thought he hadn't done his best to protect his partner, and was now going into overdrive to make sure I wouldn't face the same fate. It was a thoughtful gesture, but still…

"Do you think Jesse feels guilty for what happened to Alex?" I asked, although I doubt David would know for sure since Jesse was the one who went through it and who was the one feeling the effects. David was obviously not Jesse.

David nodded slowly. "It's possible. I know I am not the best observer of people as machines are more my forte, but I think it's safe to say that Jesse changed after that incident. He kept more to himself, and barely ever talks unless necessary. And don't take this the wrong way, seeing as you're his partner and all, but he became a lot less fun to be around too."

Less fun was right.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him. I was just curious because, well, I never knew why Alex transferred and Jesse…he doesn't talk much, like you said."

And when he talks, it's usually to say something negative about my behavior so he might as well not talk, right?

"I think it's important to know your partner's history, it makes working together much easier," he said matter-of-factly.

"You're right. Thanks, David," I said, and stood up to leave.

"No problem. Hey, do you want to have lunch with some of us later?"

I hesitated. It was a wonderful invite but if Jesse was there…I'd rather not be around him.

David caught on to my dilemma and said, "If you're worried about Jesse, he's not coming. I already asked."

I breathed, relieved. "Okay. I'll go then. See you later." Then I left the office and made my way to my desk.

I know, I know. It was childish and immature to avoid Jesse, especially how futile that is considering that his desk was just a few feet away from mine. But I've said some nasty things to him in New York, and I actually meant most of them. I was hurt and embarrassed, and I didn't think I wanted to face him again. In fact, in the flight over here, I was thinking that if Dominic wasn't going to allow me to change partners, I would have asked for a transfer. Anywhere else was fine, as long as I didn't have to see Jesse.

But knowing that he might have a valid reason for what he did, with the whole Alex thing, I guess I was having second thoughts. I still didn't like what he did, but it made more sense than the idea that he thought I was a double agent, working for another organization. As if I have that much energy, what's with keeping my secret job from my friends pretty much taking over most of my time.

It was funny that I was thinking about this when I realized that Jesse had materialized besides my desk, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Hello Susannah," he said, a bit stiffly.

I had been feeling almost sympathetic a few seconds ago, but seeing him in person suddenly made my mouth do something else entirely. I couldn't help it. The word vomit just came out.

"I'm going to have lunch with David and the others today. And then I'm coming back to the office, finish up some paperwork and head home. Then I'm meeting my best friends for dinner at our favorite restaurant, and maybe catch a late night movie later."

Jesse looked extremely confused. But it looked good on his face. Like the way when he looked good while he was being concerned, which happened like, once.

How could a confused guy looked good? I must be confused too.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, even sounding confused.

Okay, I've said the word confused too many times, so I shall stop. Now.

I shrugged, like the answer was obvious. "Oh, to give you a head's up, so that it would be easier for you to follow me later. LA traffic can be murder, after all. You might lose sight of me."

Jesse's expression darkened instantly and I knew he was struggling not to return my remark with an equally snarky one. It seemed to work, because he sounded almost normal, if a little strained when he said, "Susannah. That is the reason why I came to see you. I wanted to apologize for my actions the other day. I am aware that I was out of line."

I wasn't swayed. Not me, Suze Simon, I Stand My Ground. "Did Dominic make you do this so that I would be all happy and sunshine about you being my partner?"

"No, he did not," Jesse answered. "I chose to do this, to let you know I was sorry for hurting your feelings and betraying your trust. I assure you it won't happen again."

I stared at him, even less swayed. "You know, I would be a lot more forgiving if you don't sound like you're just reciting from a script."

He looked troubled. "There is no script."

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to force him to apologize properly, what kind of a person would do that?

But I knew that he knew that I wasn't convinced with that apology, which was why he said, "Can I have a word, Susannah? In private?"

He didn't look angry, so that was probably why I got up and followed him to the entrance hall where there weren't any people. If he had sounded even a tiny bit angry, I wasn't going to talk to him. I've gotten enough lectures from Dominic today.

When we were both inside the hall and safe from the ears of others, Jesse turned and spoke in a tone softer than the one he had used earlier, "Susannah, I know that what I did was unforgivable. But believe me when I say I meant you no harm or disrespect. I admit, I was curious to what your business was but I was too hesitant to ask you. I realize now that it was a mistake on my part, and even though I understand if you cannot accept my apology, I hope you know that I _am_ sorry."

There was a pause. I didn't know what to say, or where to look. I guess I was caught off-guard because I was expecting something else, not this sincere apology. I looked down to my hands instead.

Maybe instead of responding, I could ask him what I really wanted to know.

"Dominic said," I wasn't sure if it was wise to do this, but I went on, "that you're acting this way because of what happened to your last partner. Is he right?"

He didn't answer, so I looked up to see if I had angered him yet again. But Jesse just appeared taken aback by my question, though he recovered quickly enough. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully when he replied, "Dominic is right. I would hate to see another partner of mine being injured."

"What happened to him?" I asked, but from his closed expression I knew that I wasn't getting an answer. Or at least, the answer that I wanted.

"I would prefer not to talk about it," he said, finality in his voice indicating that the subject was done and over with.

I gave a shrug, like I didn't care about it. Yet his refusal to answer only made my curiosity burned for the truth. I will find get to the bottom of this, make no mistake.

There was an awkward silence as we stood there, neither one knowing what to say. I finally broke the silence, "I accept your apology. Now I have to continue my work."

I turned to head back to my desk, but his voice stopped me. "Susannah, I know I'm stepping over my boundaries again, but at the cemetery…"

My throat suddenly felt dry, and I swallowed, waiting for him to continue. I knew he had seen me cry at the cemetery and I hoped he wasn't going to bring that up. Because if he did, I would so turn around and _slap_ him.

When he saw that I wasn't telling him to shut up, Jesse said, "You were understandably upset, but I think you shouldn't have to feel responsible over your loved ones' passing."

I had gone rigid when I realized what he was trying to say, and I was painfully aware of his eyes staring at my back. My chest felt tight, and it was hard to breathe all of a sudden. I just couldn't believe that he just said that to me, knowing what I know about him now.

Without turning around, I said, "So you're saying I shouldn't feel guilty about Gina, the way you are _not_ feeling guilty over Gerrard?"

He didn't reply. I didn't expect him to. I just shook my head and said, "I thought so," before I walked away.

But there was nothing satisfying about giving the last blow when I had felt it as much as he had.

- A. M. A. I -

Lunch with the Technical Department members was pretty enjoyable, considering the fact that I couldn't understand most of the technical terms they had used. But they were really nice and accommodating, and I now know a lot about the mechanism of the flat-screen computer, more than I ever need to know in this lifetime.

After lunch, I went back to the office and did some paperwork. Jesse wasn't at his desk, which made me feel better. But his absence was soon solved when David passed by my desk and said, "Suze, briefing in Room 1."

I froze. Wait a second. Briefing equals mission and didn't Dominic said he would look into my problem? How could he have a mission so soon?

Okay, so he wasn't the one who dictates whether there would be a mission or not, but needless to say, I was not pleased. I could not face working with Jesse again, at least not this fast.

But there was nothing I could do. I was called to briefing, and I have to go. This was really annoying. Titanic-scale annoying.

Sighing, I made my way to the room and entered it. That was when I got a surprise.

Dominic was there, along with David and Carl, but no sign of Jesse.

Let me say that again.

_No_ Jesse.

I gaped there for a bit, until Dominic said, "Susannah. Come in."

Feeling weirded out, I sat down at the table besides David and looked at Carl, who smiled at me. I smiled back, but a million questions raced through my head. Most of them were about Jesse's status as my partner, a few of them were about the hideous tie that Carl was wearing.

Seriously. It was ugly.

"Now that we're all here," Dominic said, "you might notice that Jesse is not present. That is because we are taking a different approach in this mission, which is where Carl comes in. But before that, let's start from the beginning."

Different approach. That was interesting, but why not Carl and Jesse? Why Carl and me? I didn't say it out loud though.

Dominic clicked the remote to the screen behind him, and the surveillance photo of a man appeared. He looked to be in his fifties, European with dark features, slick black hair and wearing what seemed to be a really expensive fur coat.

"Bixente Manuel. A French arms dealer, notorious for supplying weapons to rebel groups in the European region. Sources say he has hundreds of clients, and is currently looking to expand his business to South America, where demand for weapons is astronomical," Dominic explained. "The Agency wants to put a stop to this, but taking him down would not be enough. We need his bank accounts, to see where he gets the money and where all the money goes. To do that, we need to first make a transaction with him. From that, we can track his whereabouts and figure out the location of his account."

"Your task would be to pretend to buy some weapons from him, giving him the money with the tracking device that we had planted in and securing another deal in the future, so that if the tracking doesn't work, we can have another option."

He handed Carl and I a file each, and I flipped it open. "Inside that file is the information you will need to meet with Bixente Manuel. One of our sources had managed to secure a meeting with him in Disneyland Hotel in Paris, and that is where you two will go."

"Wait, _what_? We're going to Disneyland?" I asked, surprised. I have never been to Disneyland, it would be cool to go even if I'm about a decade older than the target age of visitors.

"Not Disneyland," Dominic clarified, "Disneyland Hotel. The hotel besides the theme park. It's inconspicuous, a move done deliberately to make it hard for his enemies to guess the locations of his meetings."

"Right. Exchanging weapons where all the kids are," I said, shaking my head.

Of course, I was disappointed that I couldn't go to Disneyland, but I guess I had to be happy with seeing it outside of the hotel window or something.

But maybe Carl would allow me to take one ride on the Space Mountain. I'm sure he would be more understanding than the guy whose name I won't mention, but starts with a J.

"Carl, you will be posing as a very affluent American businessman in the steel industry, supposedly looking to buy weapons for your daughter's protection but you're aiming to buy more weapons for sales. Your fictional daughter will, of course, be Susannah. In the files I have given you, there are details about the alias you are taking."

So _that's_ what he meant when he said taking a 'different approach'. Instead of sneaking around, we will be meeting the bad guy face-to-face and make a deal with him.

It was David's turn to speak, and he stood up. "There won't be anything that special this time because you won't be using too many devices. But here is a ordinary-looking hundred-dollar note –" he held up the said ordinary-looking hundred dollar note, "- that is actually not that ordinary. We have implanted infra-red tracking devices on a few of these notes from the stack of money that you will be giving to Bixente Manuel and this is connected via satellite to our office. So we can track him and his money, as long as they don't throw out the cash."

He placed the note on the desk and picked up a large blue velvet case. He opened it to reveal a gorgeous black pearl necklace, with a striking raindrop-shaped locket in the middle. "And this is a beautiful necklace, for a beautiful lady –" he gestured towards me and I bowed my head, pretending to blush, "- which acts as a voice recorder, so once you activate it by pressing this button on the back of the necklace, the pearl in the middle here will record the conversation you're having with Bixente Manuel. It is completely silent, so you don't have to worry about tape rewinding and all the usual problems."

Dominic said, "Thank you, David. Any questions?"

I shook my head, and Carl also said he had no questions, so the meeting was adjourned. I arranged with Carl the time for our discussion on the mission, and when we were done, I went off to my desk to start reviewing the file I was given.

As I was sitting down, I saw that Jesse was at his desk again, busily writing something. A strange feeling surfaced in me, a mixture of curiosity, sorry and anxiety. I was curious to what Jesse thought about him not being involved in this mission, which made me feel a little sorry that I was the one who triggered it. I had no doubt in my mind that if Dominic wanted to, he could have asked Jesse to join, and maybe we could pose as partners in a company looking to buy weapons as insurance against another company, or something like that. Yet Dominic chose not to do so.

I should be grateful, but it just made me feel anxious about being partnered with Carl. He's really nice, but, a) he's the freaking Assistant Director of DN-9, and b) he has so much experience compared to me that I was afraid I would screw it up.

But this is what I wanted, right?

Yeah, it was what I wanted. So I told myself to stop thinking about it and concentrate on reading the file.

* * *

**Sorry this took a while to update, I've been a bit busy with the new semester and all that boring stuff.**

**This chapter wasn't much, but I promise that the next one will give you a hint to solving one of the current subplots and also start a new one. Possibly.**

**All feedback welcomed! Thanks to everyone who reads this, it means a lot to me that you are taking the time to read my story and leaving your reviews.**

**Loves, Aina.**


	9. Page 9

"I'm stuffed," Cee Cee announced wearily, leaning back in her chair.

I laughed, agreeing with her. That dinner was truly worth its price with its humongous servings and all the side dishes that came along with it. It was safe to say that this restaurant, Deep Inside, will stay at the top of our List of Favourite Restaurants in the years to come.

"What are you two talking about? We haven't even ordered desserts yet," Adam said, looking dejected.

Cee Cee and I groaned in protest. I said to him, "I don't think I can eat anymore. Besides, I'm doing my kickboxing training later, so I can't be too full."

"Okay, here's what I don't get. Why do you even kickbox? Do you have this other life as a superhero, ridding the world of pickpockets and advocates of child labour every night while the rest of us enjoy our sleep?" Adam was joking, but there was a slight question in his tone.

Cee Cee and I exchanged a discreet look. With her being aware of my previous ghost-busting activities, she obviously understood that habits were hard to break. Of course, she didn't know that I kept my training mostly because of my job now, rather than an extremely strong determination to keep fit.

"I just want to be fit and healthy," I said, shrugging.

"Well, I know an easier way for you to get fit and healthy. It involves you and my bed," Adam said, grinning mischievously.

While Cee Cee laughed, I told Adam in a sorrowful voice, "I'm sorry, Adam, but I must yet again respectfully decline your invitation to change your bedsheets."

"Damn!" He looked put out. "You guys know I'm not good with household chores. What good is having female friends if they can't help out with it?"

"Adam, I think you're about two centuries too late for the male chauvinist attitude, because there is such a thing as female equality rights nowadays, you know," Cee Cee stated in a firm but playful manner. "I'm sure you can do without changing your sheets for a while, since nothing ever happens on it."

Adam gave out an indignant "Hey!" while I struggled to keep from laughing with my mouth full from the drink I just took.

During moments like these, it was hard to believe that anything in my life could ever be abnormal, so to speak. I was sitting in a noisy, packed and perfectly normal restaurant, with two completely – well, not completely, especially Adam – normal friends, eating totally normal food. I couldn't even convince myself that I was leaving the next morning to go to France, about to meet one of the villains of the world according to the Agency and arranging a deal with him as a part of a large-scale strategy to take him down.

Like I said, it didn't make sense.

That was why I intend to enjoy every moment that I can take, because I needed this moments of normality. I needed to know that despite all the craziness around the world, craziness that sometimes became a part of my life, there was still a piece in my life that was stable and secure.

I leaned over to take another sip of my margarita, and Cee Cee stood up, excusing herself to go to the washroom. I watched her go, and took another sip.

I really shouldn't drink too much. Wouldn't want to get hammered with a hangover tomorrow morning, especially with it being my first mission with Carl and all. But the margarita was _so_ good…

"Hey Suze?"

I glanced up at the sound of Adam's voice, wondering what other jokes he was planning this time. But when I saw his face, I realized that whatever he was about to say, it was something serious.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

He hesitated. Then in a strange gesture, glanced over his shoulder to look at the back of the restaurant where Cee Cee had disappeared into before looking at me again.

"I don't know if this is a big deal or what, but it was just so weird," he said slowly, as if thinking whether to tell me whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Adam, you're not making sense. What is it? You know you can tell me," I assured him, but I was feeling a bit freaked by his behavior. I hadn't seen him this serious since...well, since he broke up with his last girlfriend a few months ago. It was a bad breakup. Really bad. We thought he might even turn gay at some point. But luckily for me, he didn't. I'd hate to think I'd have to compete with my own guy friend for a man's attention.

"Well…it's Connor."

The moment he said that name, all alarms went blaring in my head. Silently telling myself to stay cool, I said quite calmly, "What about Connor?"

If he was cheating on Cee Cee, I swear I'll kick his butt from here to Alaska.

Adam leaned forward, speaking quickly, as if he wanted to get it over with. "It's nothing, really. It's just that I bumped into him in First Interstate last week, and he acted like he didn't know me. I thought maybe he didn't see me, but he looked straight at me, and then walked away like I was a stranger."

I frowned, not expecting to hear that. I thought he might have seen Connor did something incriminating, or suspicious.

"Maybe he was busy? Or maybe he saw you but didn't really _see_ you, because he was too distracted?" I suggested.

Adam shook his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. "That's what I thought too, but as he was leaving, he walked right past me and I nodded at him, but he just looked blank. Like he didn't recognize me, or chose not to recognize me. I'm pretty sure he recognizes me, we've met enough times, so why would he pretend to not know me? I just don't get it."

"Are you sure it was Connor? Not someone who looks like Connor?"

Adam fixed me a do-you-think-I'm-stupid look, and I said quickly, "Right. Of course."

He was right. This _was_ weird.

I stirred my drink absently, thoughts swirling in my head like the water in my glass. I couldn't get my head around it. Why would Connor act like that? What agenda does he have?

I really had no idea, and it disturbed me.

Adam sighed. "I didn't want to tell Cee Cee because I know how much she loves the guy, and maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing. But if he was being rude on purpose, then maybe he's not as good as she thinks he is. I don't know, what do you think?"

For a second I considered telling Adam what I heard Connor said in his phone conversation a few weeks back, but then I decided against it. He didn't need to be a suspicious paranoid like me and I didn't want him to wonder why I didn't say anything about it to him earlier.

"Maybe there's an explanation. I don't think we should be worried yet, and I definitely don't think we should tell Cee Cee about it. Like you said, it could be nothing…"

I wished I sounded more convincing. But Adam seemed to take my words with relief, like I had just confirmed what he was hoping to hear.

"You're right. Maybe next time he comes to dinner with us, I'll ask him what happened that day."

I couldn't respond because Cee Cee was making her way back to our table, so I just nodded to him.

What I was thinking at that moment was actually that I didn't have time for this CSI (Connor's Secret Investigation). But I knew if something happened later, something which I could have stopped and I didn't do anything about it until it was too late, I would regret it forever.

No one was going to disturb this part of my life. And when I come back from my trip, it was time I conduct a proper inquiry into Connor and his life. I don't care if Cee Cee thinks I'm too intrusive, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Of course, I didn't know then that by the time I return from Paris, my life was no longer the same.

- A. M. A. I -

**Los Angeles To Paris**

With so many distracting thoughts occupying my mind, it was funny that I still had time to be excited that I was about to go to Disneyland. Well, maybe not inside Disneyland, but somewhere very close. I'm pretty sure I would get to see the Eiffel Tower too.

When I was in high school, I dreaded school trips or just trips of any kind, especially to museums or historical places because the chances were that I would meet some lost soul who needs help moving on, and so it became such a hassle when all I wanted to do was to see the Declaration of Independence on display at the National Archives or whatever.

But now that I was free of the gift/curse, I could go wherever I want and nothing was going to bother me, not even dead ones no other people can see.

"Have you finished reading the file?"

My thoughts were interrupted by Carl, who was sitting beside me in the public flight on course to Charles de Gaulle International Airport. We were sitting at the aisle seats, and I got the window seat because Carl said he needed to go to the washroom often during flights. But I think he knew I wanted to see the view, because it had been almost4 hours since we took off and he hadn't been to the washroom even once.

"Yes. It's very interesting," I said, gesturing to the file that was open on the flip-up mini table in front of me. "I just hope I can pull off being your daughter, with me being so old and all."

He laughed, and shook his head. "You don't need to worry about that. My eldest daughter is 17 and with all the makeup she wears now, she hardly looks her age anymore."

I smiled, feeling at ease with this big man besides me. All my preliminary fears about awkward moments with Carl were erased as soon as we boarded the plane and he gave me the window seat. He seemed to understand what I was like, and actually seemed interested in my life outside the CIA. He asked me about my friends – which made me wonder if I should ask his opinion about Connor, but that seemed a bit too much – and what I usually do on my days off.

"You have a daughter?" I asked, politely yet also curiously.

"Three daughters," he answered,reaching inside his coat to pull out his wallet. He flipped it open and took out a picture from behind his fake name card – Carl Walden, Human Resources Manager, Kent Advertisings – and handed it to me. I took it, and found myself staring at three light-haired teenage girls, looking giggly and shy in front of the camera. Behind them stood a smiling woman with blond hair, her features similar to the girls in front of her.

"Fiona's the eldest with too much make up, Christina is 15 and Sandra is 14," he told me, pride in his voice. "And that's my wife, Lisa."

"You have a beautiful family," I said sincerely to him,but there was a pang in my heart coming from the emptiness of my own life. People always tell me that I'm lucky to be an only child because I never have to share my things with any siblings, but sometimes I wish I _have_ someone to share things with. Somehow even best friends couldn't make up for non-existent family members.

"Thank you," Carl smiled, taking back the photo and carefully placing it inside his wallet.

"Is it hard? Keeping your job a secret from your family?"

To my surprise, Carl shook his head. "My wife knows I'm in the Agency."

I stared at him, astonished. "What do you mean? I thought – I thought we can't tell –"

"Calm down," he stopped me, smiling at the way I was sputtering like an idiot. "When I joined the Agency 20 years ago, I worked at the front line, at the office in Langley. As you know, working at the headquarters and working in one of the branches are two different things. I never had to pretend to be working somewhere else until I came to work in DN-9 about 8 years ago. By then I couldn't lie to Lisa, so she knows I work in a covert branch, but she also knows that she's the only one who knows about what I do."

"So you mean…as long as I work at the office and not on the field, I can tell people that I actually work in the CIA?"

How could I not know this? It was like a revelation. I could actually tell Cee Cee and Adam that I work at the CIA, and won't have to worry about them being shipped off somewhere else.

"Sure," Carl said. "But you won't get to travel like you do now."

Oh, right.

That was a downer. Not five minutes ago I was relishing the fact that I could travel anywhere without any problems, and now I have the choice of giving it up just so I can stop lying to my friends about what I do.

I needed to think about this for a moment.

"Do your daughters know about this?" I asked him, trying to keep my mind off the questions in my own life.

Carl's expression turned serious, and he said, "No. Mainly because I don't want them to grow up thinking this is their dream profession. I know how dangerous this job can be."

I felt the faint pang again, but quickly brushed it off by saying, "My dad died when I was young, so he couldn't have stopped me from joining the CIA. I guess I'm lucky in that sense."

Carl paused for a moment. Then he said, nicely, "No matter what goes on at DN-9, Suze, I have tremendous respect in the fact that you are passionate about your work and about the Agency. I'm sure your father would have been very proud of you."

I was startled by the compliment, and I wondered briefly if hewas talking about my disagreement at Jesse, since I was sure Dominic made him aware of all the going-ons at the division. But it didn't keep my face from warming up and surely turning into the attractive colour of tomato red. I guess when you are like me who get compliments as often as never, when one unexpectedly pops up you just get all tongue-tied. I mumbled a "Thanks" and arranged the papers in my file, avoiding Carl's eyes. I didn't want him to think I was a weepy person or anything.

After what he had said, I felt a little lump in my throat, thinking about my dad. Yet I also couldn't help wondering whether my mom would be proud of me too, had she known what I do.

- A. M. A. I -

**Paris**

This city is _gorgeous_.

I could live here. I really could. It would be so easy.

On our way to the hotel, we passed the majestic Arc de Triomphe and drove by the Seine River. It was a sunny spring day, and everyone seemed to be enjoying life to the fullest. I managed to get a glimpse of the famous Notre Dame, and everywhere I turned, it appeared as if the Eiffel Tower was right there beside me, strikingly tall and beautiful in its simple architecture.

The Disneyland Hotel was beautiful too, and everyone was really gracious to us. I had put on my wig in the car on the way to the hotel, so that by the time we arrived I was no longer Suze Simon, but Joanna Donovan, daughter of the multi-millionaire owner of a steel company, Brian Donovan.

As soon as we checked into the hotel and got our room, we changed into our aliases. This time, I got to wear a dark green layered couture dress in a similar design to one of Dior's creation, with a Prada purse and a pair of three-inch platform heels that looked like it could do some serious damage if applied to the ribs or the knees. But all of the branded stuff were imitations, I didn't think the CIA gives enough resource to the Supply Section for them to buy actual Dior or Prada stuff.

But I looked not too shabby. Most importantly, I looked expensive, and that was what mattered today.

Once I had put on the black pearl necklace slash voice recorder, and Carl had finished his disguise with a fake moustache that actually looked pretty real, we set off to the lobby, where Bixente Manuel's men would meet us.

"Are you nervous?" Carl asked as we walked down the main staircase.

"Not really. All I need to do is pretend to be a spoilt rich brat. How hard can that be?" I joked, and Carl laughed.

A family of four hurried past us, the two adults who I assumed were the parents desperately trying to keep up with the tiny tykes who appeared to be suitably excited to meet Mickey and Goofy at Disneyland, which has its entrance just outside of the hotel.

A thought occurred to me then, and I said quietly, "Although, I do feel a little nervous that he has brought all those weapons here. I mean, with all the civilians hanging around the place and all…"

Carl turned to me and spoke in a confidential tone. "This isn't in the file they gave us, but there's a reason why Bixente chooses this location to have his meetings. Two years ago, his son disappeared while they were on vacation in Disneyland. Since the cover for his weapons business was that of a cigar manufacturer, everyone thought his son was kidnapped for ransom. But there was no ransom, and his son was never found. From then on, Bixente holds all his meetings right here in this hotel."

"You're kidding," I said, but didn't actually mean it. It was apparent that Carl was not kidding. "He comes here for his own sentimental reason?"

"That's right. The Agency doesn't acknowledge it, of course, since we're not supposed to think of criminals as human beings with feelings," said Carl, in a somewhat disapproving tone.

To be honest, neither have I.

I guess you could say that I've always had a black-and-white view of the bad guys that I meet, thinking of them as criminals who are out to destroy the world, or at least, the people around them. They weren't like ghosts, who could be good or bad depending on the type of person they were when they were alive. Criminals were all bad in my eyes.

It boggled my mind to think that someone with a rap sheet like Bixente Manuel might have been coming to this hotel as often as he could because he has the faded hope that he will meet his lost son once again.

So many things have been challenging the way I think of things during this trip, that I felt like I needed to go back and meditate, just to sort out my thoughts and feelings once again. And I never meditate. I just never had the patience for it. And yet now I longed for a moment of peace just so I could rearrange my brain matter.

I'll definitely be needing that margarita when I come back.

But I didn't have time to think too much about it because when we stepped into the main lobby, a tall, fierce looking man in a smart black suit walked over to us and asked if we were the Donovans. Carl said yes, and the man asked us to follow him.

We followed him down a hallway at the side of the lifts, and then into one of the private lounges off the hallway. When we entered the room, we saw that Bixente was sitting on one of the armchairs, another man in a similar suit to the one who greeted us standing behind him.

The room was a sitting room of some sort, cream in colour but furnished with a Victorian-ish décor. It was simple, but tasteful. On one of the walls, there was a huge glass door which opened to small private yard, with the entrance to Disneyland in plain view.

And that was the closest I would ever get to the Place Where Magic Never Ends, I thought with a sigh.

Bixente stood up when he saw us, putting down the cigar he had been smoking onto a glass ashtray – a cigar his company made, I assumed – and reached over to shake Carl's hand, all the time speaking in perfect English with a light French accent. He was bigger than I had thought, towering over me in his fur coat and cashmere sweater. I didn't doubt that unlike my threads, his were the real stuff.

"Welcome, Brian, and lovely _mademoiselle _Joanna," he smiled and bowed his head. I gave his hand a soft shake, flipping my platinum blond curls and flashing my pearly whites.

"It's good to be here," Carl said, and Bixente asked us to sit down. I sat, and with a gesture of flipping my hair over my shoulder again, I quickly pressed the button on my necklace, activating the recorder.

"I trust your trip went well," Bixente said, but it was more of a statement rather than a question. I couldn't get over how tall he was, even as he was sitting down. He must be reaching almost 7 foot. It was hard to believe that this man could ever be emotional enough to come here for his son, but then again, there were many sides to a person.

Carl and he had some small talk, and I put on a bored expression, examining my fake nails and fiddling with my purse. Finally, I said in a whiny, annoying pitch, "Daddy, can we get on with it, I want to go shopping."

Carl fixed me with a stern look, like he wanted to scold me for being rude – all an act, obviously – but Bixente just let out a loud laugh. "Of course, of course, all ladies love shopping in the city of Paris. The prices are quite reasonable, if you compare it to Milan or Zurich."

I pouted my glossed lips. "I've never been to Milan. Daddy said I'm too young to be traveling with my friends."

Oh, I really should get an Oscar. I had this Paris Hilton act down pat.

"You can wait a few more years, Milan isn't going anywhere," Carl said in light admonishment.

"Your father is just looking out for you, young lady. All fathers want the best for their child," Bixente remarked, but I had a feeling he wasn't just talking about Brian Donovan. And that was the moment where I could actually see the other side of this criminal, the human side of him.

It made me extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, to avoid further delay for _mademoiselle_ Joanna, let's get on with it, shall we?" Bixente gestured to one of his men who then placed a suitcase in front of us, before opening it. Inside, there was a selection of hand guns, all brand new.

"Make your choice," Bixente said, smiling.

I pretended to be clueless about the guns, and so Carl made a big act of telling me that the guns were for my 'bodyguards' and that I just needed one for my own use. He picked a 9mm semi-automatic, and closed the case. It didn't matter what he picked actually, it wasn't like I was going to use it. It would be handed to the CIA when we come back.

"Excellent choice. Easy for you to handle." Bixente nodded for his man to take away the case. I smiled, thinking about the many different guns and rifles I've handled during my time in the Agency.

"Now Joanna, Bixente and I need to discuss some business matters. Can you please have a drink at the café and wait for me there?"

That was my cue to leave while Carl arranged for the actual exchange of arms and for future meets. The act of buying the gun was supposedly done to blindside Joanna from his dad's real business there, and since Bixente appeared to believe that I was completely fooled, the deal looked set to go on.

"All right, daddy. Can I walk out through there? I want to have a bit of sun," I said, pointing to the glass doors.

Since my job was done, I thought I'd get a look at Disneyland while I waited for Carl to conclude his task. I was that close to the place, after all.

"Of course. Laurent, _ouvrez la porte_," Bixente instructed his man, who went over to the glass doors and opened them for me.

Thanking him, I exited of the room to the mini yard which opened to a pathway down to the entrance of the hotel. The street to Disneyland was on the other side of the low wall besides the pathway, and was filled with tourists and families making their way to the theme park.

It was a hot day, and I shielded my eyes as I walked slowly down the path. Right then, a group of young kids stopped in front of me, being rounded up by three harried-looking adults.

School trip. How cute.

Some of the kids looked at me and started whispering with one another. I stared at them, and they giggled, turning away. One of them asked me, "_Êtes-vous une célébrité?_"

Talk about an ego boost!

I totally felt like saying yes, I am a celebrity, I'm actually the star of a Emmy-award winning TV show in the US about a woman who works as a spy while trying to balance her normal life and keeping her other life a secret. But just as I was preparing this complete fabrication, the group moved away, following their teachers to the entrance of the park. I watched them go, the young girl who had asked me if I was someone famous waving at me as she went.

Oh well, next time then. At least they thought I looked like a celebrity, so my disguise must have been working better than I imagined.

As the chatter of the kids faded away, my ears were suddenly tuned to the sound of someone crying. I looked around the vacant area, and saw that a boy was left behind from the group. He was sitting in the middle of the path, sobbing into his hands, his body shaking with each breath he took. He looked as if he had just fallen over or something.

Worried, I went over to him and started to pat him on the back. I told him in his native tongue to stop crying and that I will get his teacher for him. They obviously had overlooked him, and I thought of how much trouble they were going to get when they realized that they had almost left one of their students behind!

Really. Wasn't it enough that I was protecting the world from bad guys, and trying to investigate my best friend's boyfriend, now I had to be saving little boys too? I should get a medal from the mayor or something.

The boy, who looked to be about 10, stopped crying and stared at me in surprise. But he didn't say anything. I guess he must have been in shock, because even when I asked him if he was hurt, he didn't answer me. He just kept on staring, his face wet with tears.

"Never mind, let's go get your teacher. Don't worry, I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, but I'm a nice person, I promise," I said to him in French as I helped him to his feet, brushing off some dirt that was on his pants. His hands were cold despite the hot sun, and despite the factthat he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

That was when I realized that his outfit was different than the ones that the group of kids earlier had been wearing, which were white T-shirts and dark blue shorts. All in uniform.

I let go of him and stepped back, feeling my breath painfully stuck in my throat.

The boy stared at me, his surprised face turning to wonder. He asked in a soft voice, "_Vous pouvez me voir?_ "

I didn't know how I could have missed it. Maybe you forget things once they're out of your life long enough, even if they used to be really important. I certainly did.

_You can see me?_

Because even with the boy standing right under a spot of afternoon sunlight, I could see quite clearly that he was _glowing_.

* * *

**Finally! We've reached the plot point we've been waiting for. Okay, maybe _I've_ been waiting for.**

**Sorry if the French was bad, I only took French for a year like ages ago in high school, so online translation is all I had. **

**I'll be doing something I've never done before - responding to all the reviews I get this chapter individually in the next chapter, so bring them on! They are much welcomed and loved!**

**Loves, Aina.**


	10. Page 10

First, breathe.

Second, think.

Now that my mind was fully functioning once again, I opened my eyes to make sure that I wasn't imagining things.

The boy was still standing there, staring at me through translucent tears, and his body was still emitting that unmistakable undead glow.

"Are you alright?" he asked in his native tongue, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, because I should be the one asking him that. I mean, what kind of an adult I was, freaking out over a crying boy?

Granted, he was dead. And granted, I haven't seen a crying dead boy for almost seven years. In fact, I haven't seen any kind of dead boys, crying, not crying, happy, naughty, funny, whatever. So seeing one appearing out of nowhere now was both surreal and almost tear-inducing in some way.

"I'm alright," I answered, even though my body felt cold and the place suddenly felt so foreign.

I felt pain in my chest, I discovered that I'd been holding my breath all this while, so I let it out, allowing my breathing to return to its normal pace.

Why now? Why here? Most importantly, why does this boy look familiar?

"Can you help me?" he asked again, having gathered himself and appearing quite calm even though he had been sobbing like it was the end of the world just a few seconds ago (he spoke in French of course, but I have thoughtfully translated our conversation into English for non-French speaking readers' benefit).

That was the question, could I help him?

I knew that I couldn't say no to him but any minute now, Carl will come back and we will return to the hotel and in a few hours, fly back to the US. I can pretend that this didn't happen, or I could do something about it.

What would it be?

Thinking about Carl made me realize that my voice recorder/necklace was still on, so I quickly reached back and switched it off. Suddenly I couldn't recall if I had said anything incriminating, but I was sure I didn't mention the word 'dead', 'ghosts' or 'mediator', so I was safe for now.

Then I was aware that I must have looked pretty funny talking to myself in the middle of the pathway, so I motioned to the boy to follow me, and I went off to look for the nearest ladies' washroom.

Once I had entered and make sure no one was in, I took a chair – yes, they have a chair at the side of the washroom, a sort of a waiting place – and stuck it under the doorknob to prevent people from coming in and disturbing us. If they couldn't hold it any longer, then I was sorry for the inconvenience and possible soiled pants. In the meantime, I had more important things to attend to.

The boy looked around the washroom in wonder.

"This is a women's toilet," he said, as if he was doing something wrong being there. Which he was, being the wrong gender and all, but I didn't think it mattered since no one could see him anyway.

"I know," I said, "but we can talk here in peace."

"Why can you see me? No one else can."

I turned to look at him, the chair firmly in place. "I'm not like anyone else. I thought I was, but apparently I'm not."

He stared at me, and I quickly asked, "My name's Suze. So can you tell me who you are and why were you crying back there?"

I wasn't sure if he knew that he was dead and I didn't want to break the news to him straightaway. I knew I had to though, eventually. I just didn't know how to do it just yet.

"My name is Victor and I am seven years old," he said, as if telling a classroom full of students his biography. "I was crying because…I saw my father but he didn't see me. And then I saw my class teacher but she didn't see me too…."

His lower lips started quivering again, and I hurried over to his side, placing my hand on his shoulder and hoping it would stop his tears. Then something occurred to me.

"You saw your father?"

He nodded, his dark pupils huge and innocent. It was that innocent quality which made me realize the fact that I had seen a similar set of eyes, only in a more cunning nature.

"Is your father…Bixente Manuel?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. The dark eyes, dark hair, same nose, the male genes of his family must have been really dominant. Then again, I'd never seen his mother.

"Yes!" he replied, joyfully. "You are a friend of my father?"

I hesitated.

Fate is such a funny thing, and I almost curse at it and the way it had played around with my life. If there was such thing as fate, which there must be because I refused to believe everything that happened was of my own doing. For instance, how was I supposed to even guess that coming to Paris to meet one of the biggest arms dealers in Europe would cause me to bump into the ghost of his dead son? It was unfathomable.

"I know him," I replied, not wanting to lie and yet not wanting to tell him that the government of my country was after his father and his underground operations.

I suddenly wondered if Bixente dealt with the weapons only because he wanted to support his family, and I hated these speculations. I wasn't supposed to feel sorry for him or his family, but when one of them was standing right in front of me, young and pure, it was hard to feel otherwise.

"That is great. Now you can bring me to see my father again," he stated, ready to turn and walk out of there.

Boy, this was going to _suck_.

"Wait a second," I halted him, and he turned to face me. "Do you remember being here? In this – theme park?"

I realized that no matter what happened, I had to know how he became dead in the first place. I know this made it sound like I was already set on helping him, but to be honest, I was still undecided.

But old habits die hard.

"I came here with my nanny, and we went on many rides, it was fun, I ate cotton candies and sugar Mickey Mouse. Then…I cannot remember what happened, but it was raining and my nanny was gone and I couldn't go home because I don't have money to get a taxi. So I stay here, and no one cares because they cannot see me, and they cannot ask me to go home. Sometimes I wake up and I'm in a place like a tunnel, and a man talks to me but then I told him I want to get on the rides and so he ask me to close my eyes and I'm here again. I want to eat the cotton candies but I don't feel hungry, so I just play until someone can take me home again," he explained.

I noticed that he spoke with a sort of detachment to his tone, and I had a feeling that he thought his family had abandoned him in some way. Before I could indulge in this pity for him, there were some things in what he just said which confused me.

The thing about the tunnel, and someone who talked to him? Was he talking about his kidnappers?

But I realized that if he had been kidnapped, his spirit shouldn't be stuck here still. It would be wherever else that he died while in captivity, so it must mean that he had died here somehow, and they never discovered his body. Yet who was this guy that he met, could it be another mediator?

"What is this tunnel that you just said?"

Victor shrugged. "I don't know. It's dark, and it has many doors at the side."

"It's not one of the rides here?" I asked, since I didn't know, maybe there was a ride that had a tunnel with many doors.

He shook his head. "No, it…feels different. It's quiet."

This was related to this mediator thing, I knew it, but I had no idea what, and it bothered me. A lot.

"Who is the person you talked to? Why hasn't he helped you?"

"He said he has to stay in the tunnel place, and someone else will come and help me. I don't know who he is. But he wears a skirt," he said, and started giggling.

A cross dressing mediator? _What?_

I just stared at him as he continued to giggle, and finally I said, "Can you bring me to this tunnel?"

He looked surprised. "I don't know where it is. I just wake up and I was there. But I have only been there a few times. I don't know how to go there."

I exhaled. I had never met any other mediators in my life, and I wonder if Victor was talking about a mediator, or someone with another kind of _gift_. I had a feeling it couldn't be a mediator, otherwise Victor wouldn't still be stuck here. The person seemed to know about mediators though, the way he told Victor that someone would come and help him. Move on, I assumed.

"Okay," I said, deciding to think about that later, "Do you remember the last ride you went on before your nanny was gone?"

"Um…I think it was the Peter Pan ride," he frowned, trying to remember.

Peter Pan ride. I have no idea how that ride is, but I figured it couldn't be too dangerous since he went on it, and he's just a kid. Yet if something had gone wrong there, an accident which no one was aware of, it would make sense when he went missing and everyone assumed he was kidnapped.

I suddenly realized I was already plotting on ways to get to the Peter Pan ride without being seen by too many people – an impossible feat on a weekend like this – and there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to solve the mystery of his death. Maybe I had known it the moment I saw Victor's glow, but I was acknowledging it now.

There was this small voice which kept reminding me that Bixente was a bad man, why should I care that his son was a ghost or not? But even with knowing Bixente as I did, I knew it wasn't Victor's fault that his dad turned out to be a criminal. And if I were to say no to him asking for my help, what would that make me? Not a criminal, but I might as well be one, heartless as I was.

Sometimes you don't make your choices. Your choices make you.

"Let's go," I said, and went to pull the chair from under the doorknob again.

"Where are we going? Are you going to bring me to meet my father?" Victor asked, getting excited as he hurried to my side.

Damn. There was that tiny little business of telling him that he had died.

Better now than later, I guess.

"Victor, there is something you need to know," I said slowly, placing the chair back to its place. "Something happened to you that day when your nanny went away, and that's why no one else can see you."

"What happened to me?" he asked, puzzled.

_You died._

I wanted to say it. I really did, I knew I had to tell him the truth and it was at the tip of my tongue, but at the very last moment…

I couldn't.

It was stupid, of course. I'm sure he knew about life and death, but I just didn't know how to explain it to him.

Screw the freaking non-existent Mediator Handbook then, I thought. And then I lied to him.

"You became special. You became someone that only other special people can see and talk to, people like me," I said, trying very hard not to wince outwardly at the lameness of my answer.

His eyes grew round. "Like the Invisible Man? I used to watch the show on TV!"

Okay, why didn't I think of that? The Invisible Man made much more sense than the Special Boy. But I nodded.

"Yes, like him. So now, we have to find out why you became invisible in the first place, and then you can leave this place and move on to somewhere else."

"Can't I go home?" he sounded sad, and I figured, what the hell, one lie, one hundred lies, I was going to hell anyway.

"We'll see," I smiled, feeling phony and guilty, but it soon disappeared when I saw the smile on his face.

We left the bathroom, and I checked my watch to see whether I had time to change when I heard someone call my alias.

"Joanna," the voice said again, and I turned and saw Carl walking towards me.

"Hi dad," I said, fully aware of one of Bixente's men standing behind him, and for one desperate moment, I hoped Bixente himself didn't come walking by because I really wouldn't know how to handle the situation if Victor started crying again.

When he was close to me, Carl spoke in a low voice, "We've done the deal. I gave him the money and he'll be contacting us soon."

I nodded quickly, not wanting to say anything in case Bixente's name came up, since Victor was standing not two feet away from me, and he was listening to every single word. Though I was sure that he didn't speak English, I think his dad's name sounds the same in all languages.

"We should go, our flight is arriving at 5," Carl said, starting to walk away. It was already 2.35pm, according to my watch.

That's when I knew that my complicated life was about to get even _more_ complicated.

"Carl," I said, deciding I was too far gone to back away now.

I couldn't just go and leave Victor here, pretending that I was going back to my abnormal, CIA-filled life and that everything would be just fine. _This_ was my life, it had been mine before the CIA came along and now it was mine to reclaim. Perhaps I didn't want to, but like I said, it wasn't a choice I can make. This is me, a mediator, this is who I am.

So I might as well be darn good at it.

"I know this may sound stupid," I said, sounding apologetic, "but I really, really want to go on the Space Mountain. I know I'm a grown adult and all, but I have never been to Disneyland and this is the closest I've ever been to it, and I've heard about all the rides but there's just one that I want to go to. The Space Mountain."

I figured I had just enough time to find the Peter Pan ride, investigate Victor's potential death and leave for the LA flight in a matter of one hour. Go Suze, go.

Carl looked at me, surprised or puzzled or amused, I couldn't tell. But he did sound amused when he said, "You want to go on a ride?"

I feigned an embarrassed laugh, "Yeah, actually. Just that one ride. I will make it in time for the flight, I promise."

"Are you sure? There are a lot of people here today…" Carl said, unconvinced.

"Trust me, I will make it in time," I said, and I meant it.

He broke into a smile, his fake mustache squiggling above his mouth as he said, "Alright, you go. I will go to the airport first and wait for you there."

"Thanks, Carl. You're awesome," I said, grinning as I went off towards the entrance of the theme park.

"Have fun," he called out.

Fun. Right, let's have fun.

In the space of fifteen minutes, I had lied to a ghost boy and the Assistant Director of my workplace, both with just a brief feeling of guilt on my part. That was what my life is going to consist of now, lies and more lies. Even more ridiculous, the acting I had learned so well for my job for the CIA was now being used _against_ the CIA, or at least a member of the CIA. I had no time to think about the irony of that. I had no time about the ridiculous situation I was in, all I could do was take action.

"Who was that?" Victor asked as he walked beside me, almost transparent under the bright sunlight.

"My co-worker," I answered, lost in my thoughts.

"Why did he call you with a different name?"

"It's my middle name," I said distractedly.

"He's not special. He couldn't see me," Victor declared, a sort of triumphant note in his voice.

I glanced at him, and wondered if he was right. If he was indeed special, being one of the walking dead, and if _I_ was special, having the ability to interact with the walking dead.

To be politically correct, I should say that everyone in this world is special in their own way.

Then I queued up in the ticket line and being the only person there with an invisible companion by my side, I thought that maybe, I was a little bit more special after all.

- A. M. A. I. -

When I had finally bought the ticket – Victor didn't need one, lucky him – we entered the theme park, straight away stepping into the famous Main Street. I went to the large board displaying the map of Disneyland just besides the entrance, but Victor pulled my hand.

"Come on, I will show you the Peter Pan ride," he said, and I quickly followed him amidst the strong crowd.

As we walked past a shop door and I caught a glimpse of my reflection, I suddenly realized that my overall look was such a standout from the rest of the people there, with the green dress and the blond hair and the high heels. I knew I had to do something, because if I go snooping around in this, someone was bound to notice.

So I called out to Victor and told him that I needed to do something before we go on.

Then I asked him to lead me to a washroom that is the most secluded, as in not crowded, than the rest.

He scrunched his face, thinking. "The only washroom that is not crowded is the employees' washroom," he said.

"Well, that's even better," I said and we went off to look for one.

The employees' bathroom is behind the rows of shops, in a single building disguised as a mini castle. With Victor off doing what I asked him to do – he seemed excited by the prospect of being involved in something, poor kid probably bored out of his mind all these time being a ghost, I mean, how many times can you go in the Haunted House before it stops scaring you, anyway? – I snuck into the ladies' bathroom and closed the door.

Then I entered one of the cubicles and taking off my high heels, I climbed onto the toilet seat, and reached up to the ceiling. As I expected, the square cover of the ceiling was removable, so I slowly shifted it to one side and with a gaping hole left there, I took off my wig and placed it inside the hole, just at the side.

Then I climbed back down and went to peek out the door. Victor was standing there, obediently. He looked up in surprise when he saw me, and exclaimed, "Your hair is different!"

"I know. Did you get what I asked you to?"

He handed me the uniform, and I took it, closed the door and quickly changed into the outfit. It consisted of a cap, a dark blue shirt with a Mickey Mouse three-circle logo at the top left, and a pair of khaki pants with white sneakers. I had no idea whose outfit he stole and where he got it, but it fitted me loosely and after placing my jewelry, my handbag and my dress inside the hole besides the wig, I closed the ceiling again.

It looked just fine.

After stuffing my hair through the hole in the back of the cap, letting it flow loosely on my back and putting on the sneakers – a size too big – I exited the bathroom. Victor was standing right where I had last seen him, and I thought that Bixente must have been raising him on all the good values, but I pushed that thought away.

He giggled when he saw me, which made me frown. "What?"

"You look funny," was all he said.

"You were the one who picked this outfit," I pointed out, then we hurried to where the Peter Pan ride was.

When we had run what felt like the length of three football fields – if Disneyland was anything, it was huge – Victor slowed down and I stopped, catching my breath. He wasn't out of breath, not needing to breathe being a ghost and he slowly looked around the crowded area.

We were standing in the middle of about half a dozen different rides, mostly meant for kids. I saw the Fairy Tale Castle behind me, and the Space Mountain somewhere up front – so I didn't exactly lie to Carl when I said I wanted to go to the Space Mountain – with about a hundred kids running around, queuing up for the rides and harassing their parents.

"It's gone," he said slowly.

I whipped my head around, the cap shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun. "What's gone?"

"Peter Pan. It's not here," he sounded confused.

"What? Are you sure we're in the right place?" I asked, standing up and looking around myself.

"I am. It's supposed to be near 'It's A Small World' and 'Pirates of the Caribbean'."

Then I noticed that there was a building that was closed off, and I wandered closer to it. It appeared that the management was repairing the building or something.

"Is this it? Maybe they're repairing the ride," I said, and he looked at the building too, before nodding.

"I guess so. It cannot just disappear," he said, and for one second I thought, _yeah, but you did._

Then I felt bad and without glancing to see if anyone was looking, I moved past the notice and walked up to the small building. I had the employee outfit, after all.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wondering.

"Looking around," I answered, before walking past the locked doors and towards the back of the building.

There wasn't much of a place to step, because other than a few feet of concrete behind the wall of the building and what appeared to be brand-new steel fence, the rest were just bushes dropping down like a small cliff. I didn't realize that we were actually above ground level, because I could see the Main Street from up here and the monorail track just passing below the mini cliff.

That's when I had a terrible realization, one I always get when I discover the cause of a ghost's death. I hadn't felt it in a long time, but there was no mistaking that familiar dull ache in the bottom of my stomach.

Walking back to where we had come from, I felt Victor running besides me, trying to ask me questions.

But I couldn't answer him, and so I just continued to walk and walk and walk until I had reached the Main Street again, but instead of entering it, I went off the side of the shops and buildings.

I looked up and saw the monorail track and the steel fence where I had stood just a moment ago.

Then I walked further into the bushes, not caring that I scratched my arms with the tiny branches, before finally stopping at the bottom of one of the steel pillars that was holding up the monorail track. I rummaged around the bushes, Victor's cries to me unheard, until I found what I was looking for.

I didn't know how no one saw this.

Even with dirt and bushes and litters covering it, I could see it as clearly as anyone else would, if only they had looked this way.

But they didn't, and it ended as my burden, discovering the small skeleton of the boy I had grown almost fond of, half-buried, and except to his family, forgotten.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update, I've been busy with assignments. But as I promised, review reply time!**

**OTownDominatrix **– Yes, she can! And your name reminds me of the boyband O-Town (I think that's where you got that from?) and the fact that I actually used to like them during my boyband-crazed era….those were the days…

**Crazy Freckles** – I heart you too, Lauren!

**The Magnificent Kiwi** – Thanks for reading all 9 chapters of my story, it must have taken a lot of effort on your part (esp. with that cat!) And don't be embarrassed; let's share your theory!

**Lyrical love** – Unfortunately, I seem to enjoy putting references to my fandoms in my stories whenever I can…I'm glad you liked that one though, CSI is love :)

**The Cee Factor** – Luckily this semester I'm not taking econs, that subject bores me to death. And your Connor theory is just off the mark, but you can try again!

**Annie** – Yep, Paul will come into the scene somewhere, sometime, so just wait for it, yeah? Your Connor theory is also off the mark but I'm so honoured you want to name your firstborn after me! Better hope it's a girl then, hehe

**Sam's Firefly** – Aw, I'm glad you're happy!

**DemonicBallerina** – Thanks! You should watch Alias, it's about 10 times cooler than this story (except there's no Jesse, but there are plenty of cute guys in the show!)

**Lolly Pop Ali** – Your review brings me pleasure as always, giving me a warm and fuzzy feeling, lol. Your Connor theory is also off the mark, but try again! And about that J/S kiss…my lips are sealed ;)

**Butt-kicking-chic** – I love your name! And about Jesse and Suze getting together, well, let's wait and see, shall we?

**The General G of K** – AH, I can't believe you did a review-as-you-read thing for this chapter! SO cool. And I did think about mentioning Michael Scofield somewhere, but since you've written that awesome PB/Med story, I guess I'll give you the honour! Thanks for the lovely review!

**jeez claudine** – I haven't seen you in forever! I'm glad you're liking this story and don't disappear for so long!

**Divide et Imper** – Thanks for taking the chance to read this story, I'm always happy to get a new reader :)

**Jyocka** – 1) Hmm…you've hit pretty close with that Connor theory, good for you! But not telling anything for now (zip mouth)

2) You can hope :)

3) Jesse might or might not be a mediator in this story (well, _I_ know, but not telling you!) but yes, her gift may affect her job

4) I've explained why she lost her powers back in chapter 8 (it has to do with Gina's death) but why her power's back, that's for Suze to find out for herself in the future…

I love your questions, keep them coming!

**Purple Rhapsody** – Another new reader! Yes, Paul will come sometime, and you should try and get some Alias DVDs, they rock :)

**Tripoli Sunshine** – Paul's coming soon! Well, not SO soon, but he's coming! (If that sounded dirty, it is completely unintentional)

**Lawandordersvugirl** – An Alias fan, cool! And I love Law And Order as well, so your name is nice. And you're right, I was thinking about the Paul/Sark angle as well, they just seem to match, huh?

**Bridget** – Glad you like it :D

**Blondie-4Life** – You're right, she has a lot on her plate, but she can't tell her friends about her job – it's a CIA policy. But there are other things she can tell, right? Thanks for reviewing!

**Kates Master** – O.o Your theory is very close to the mark. Go you! Jesse's coming back probably next chapter or the next, next one…not too long, I hope!

**xMischiefManaged013** – Thanks, Sara!

**Athena's Wings** – Haha, _ye, saya orang Melayu. _And I used to play football, but now I just watch it a lot. A lot, a lot. It's not healthy, really. But thanks for reading!

**Fallen214** – Thanks, I will try!

**As always thanks for reading, your reviews are much loved!**

**Aina.**


	11. Page 11

**Los Angeles**

It's been a week since the discovery of young Victor's body. And still I couldn't forget his little face staring hopefully at me, excited at the prospects of meeting his very-much-alive father. I couldn't understand why, I've mediated many, many, many ghosts before, big and small, young and old, and I managed to forget about them soon after.

It's different with Victor. I don't know why. Okay, maybe I know why. It's because he was the first case I took on after supposedly losing my 'gift'. It sticks, you know? Helping him reminded me of everything I hated - and admittedly, loved - about mediating.

Once I found the body (truthfully it wasn't even a body anymore but let's just pretend it was for the sake of my depleting sanity) I went back to Victor, and told him to sit quietly on a bench while I talk to someone who'll find his father. He complied dutifully, innocent and trusting. It was all I could do not to sit with him and cry my eyes out but hey Suze the mediator never cries, does she?

I found a payphone and gave an anonymous tip about finding 'something' in the bushes of Disneyland right behind the closed building. I made sure to speak with my back to the camera - I was sure they could trace the call to this very phone and I didn't want them trying to identify me, finding a witness, etc etc. How the hell could I explain how I found the body? "Oh yeah, that? Victor's ghost told me where to go and voila! Found it! Do I get a prize for solving one of your most notorious missing-child cases?"

God my life is depressing.

After making the call, I went back and sat with Victor. He asked me if his dad was coming, and I lied. Again. Said yes, his dad was coming to pick him up and take him home. What's yet another lie on top of another? And then I made him tell me about his friends at school and the mischief they used to get up to. As I listened to Victor happily recalling the time when he and his friends put a fake spider on a poor girl's notebook, I heard the distant sound of sirens. I turned to him as he paused, looking confused.

"I feel strange," he said. He had started to shimmer. I knew then that I didn't have to watch them bring the forensics team and all that CSI stuff because they will find him, and my job was done.

"It's only temporary." I was bullshitting, obviously, but whatever. "Maybe you should close your eyes. You'll feel better soon."

Wow, did I just recite a line from _The Ghost Whisperer_? Now if Jennifer Love Hewitt's mediator actually existed, I'd love to meet her. So that I can punch her fake happy face.

Victor closed his eyes. Suddenly he said, "Thank you, Suze. I had a good day today."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he was gone.

I was relieved, and sad. Sad about Victor. And sad about how no matter how I tried to run, it seems that I couldn't escape mediating.

Why did it come back, though? My mediating skills, I mean? I thought once it was gone, it's gone permanently. How logical would it be to disappear and come back at a whim? Not logical, and highly inconvenient.

Maybe this is just a blip. I'm glad I helped Victor, really I am. It gave me a little thrill, I admit it.

But the idea of mediating while spying is ludicrous and I just won't entertain it.

I spent the trip back home trying to avoid bumping into ghosts again, which is difficult because to me ghosts and humans are the same except for the glowing thing. Yet to avoid them I had to look for them in the first place. Have you ever actively tried to look and avoid something at the same time? It's freaking difficult, let me tell you. Carl asked me if I was okay in the plane because I kept my eyes closed the whole time - if I can't look at anyone, I can't see if they're ghosts, rights?

Yeah, Suze, great way of living!

The night I reached home Cee Cee was watching CNN and I saw Bixente holding a press conference thanking the French police for their work. I couldn't deal with the conflicting ideas of Bixente as both a bad guy and a grieving parent, so I told Cee Cee I was tired and went to bed early. Instead of sleeping though, I beat the crap out of my punching bag, trying to tire myself out even more so that I could fall asleep and not have to think about anything relating to ghosts and dead children and bad guys selling weapons.

Fat chance. I ended up spending the whole night trying to sleep and failing, my heart beating like mad in fear of hearing that familiar tinkle of ghost materialising, the way it had been when my old bedroom was like the Grand Central Station. Ghosts would come and go, asking for help like my life's entire purpose is to help them.

I didn't miss that part of mediating, that's for sure.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur. I was apprehensive that Carl might somehow link my being at Disneyland to the discovery of Bixente's dead son but he didn't mention it, and I was happy to let it go. We didn't have any missions and I made sure to keep to myself, typing up paperwork and going to meetings without as much as a sarcastic remark. It's hard to be sarcastic when one is constantly wishing for ghosts to not appear.

I even forgot to be mean towards Jesse. I think that's a mark of how far gone I was. When yet another meeting passes without me complaining or trying to be funny, even I didn't fail to notice the subtle shift in atmosphere between everyone in the room. I ignored it. As long as I was doing my work, they couldn't say anything, could they? It's not like they paid me to have a personality.

Or to be a mediator-in-denial, but that's a completely different matter.

- A. M. A. I. -

Friday arrived. I had come back from lunch - alone - and was looking through some files when Jesse came to my desk. Things had been cool between us since our heated exchange before my trip to Paris, but I didn't give it any thoughts because I had more important things in my mind. I looked up, mentally composing myself to not react at the fact that he was looking as annoyingly gorgeous as ever, and said, "Yes?"

"Meeting in room five."

"Be right there." I stacked the files on my desk and reached to key in the password-lock for my computer, when I noticed he still hadn't left. I looked at him again, raising my eyebrows in question.

Jesse appeared to be struggling internally, like he wanted to say something but at the same time is telling himself to not say it. I know that feeling. I also know that if he says something infuriating like how I'm stacking my files wrongly, I would just stand and walk away. I didn't have the energy to argue these days.

He sighed. "Never mind." Then he walked off.

I stared after him. Am I angry? I have no idea. I couldn't care less. I made sure my computer was locked, took my notebook and a pen, and followed him into room five. I passed David on the way, and he glanced at me worriedly. I smiled reassuringly at him (or so I tell myself). I'm sure he was guessing that something was wrong with me because I've turned down his invitation to lunch with him and his buddies every day this week. I reminded myself to come up with an explanation. PMS sounds like an acceptable excuse. No man would argue with a woman and her monthly visitations, right? Right?

Carl and Dominic were already there as we entered. I sat beside Carl, opened my notebook and clicked my pen, trying to ignore that fluttering feeling of anticipation of a new mission. I didn't know why I thought we'll have a new mission, but the serious faces of Dominic and Carl, the fact that we haven't had a mission since Paris, the way sometimes I just knew, the way I knew when I figured out how to send a ghost on his or her merry way, added to that feeling.

What is wrong with me? Stop thinking about ghosts! Stop sending the idea to the universe! The universe will hear and think it's a form of a prayer and actually send ghosts to me!

"Susannah?"

I looked up, and realised that I'd been clicking my pen non-stop, disrupting Dominic's briefing. I dropped my pen, and said, "Sorry," my face burning.

Dominic gave me a small smile then continued talking. I hadn't been listening to him since coming in. I chided myself, and refocused my thoughts.

"This man is Felix Diego."

A picture of a grumpy man, late thirties or early forties, with dark hair and an impressive moustache, flashed onto the screen in front of the room. He appeared about to enter a car, his face locked in a furious expression. I'd never seen him before, but I had no doubt that this was a dangerous man. Really dangerous.

"Diego is believed to be a key member of the Russian mafia. Three weeks ago, we received intel that he has acquired the codes for a nuclear weapon in Pakistan. Since then, we have been trying to get close to him, not only to retrive the codes but also to find out how he managed to have the codes in his possession in the first place. Sources have been scarce. He has many enemies, but few are willing to talk."

"Unfortunately for us, we are not the only ones who have heard about Diego's acquisition of the nuclear weapon codes. K-Directorate has sent an agent to infiltrate his party, and it would appear that they are successful."

Another picture flashed, this time of a woman. Curly dark hair, a smile on her red-lipped lips, her face turned towards Diego whose arm she was hanging onto. Beautiful. And from my personal experience, _vicious_.

"Oh god," I groaned, before I could stop myself. Everyone turned towards me. Dominic nodded. "Yes, Susannah. I heard you have had some, uh, encounters with Miss Maria Espinosa. Perhaps you could briefly share with us what you know about this agent."

Encounters? That sounds like I met her in a corner coffee shop in Manhattan. I think "fighting until one of us kicks it" would be more appropriate.

I sighed, and reluctantly started to speak.

"Maria is one of K-Directorate's best agents. She was born in Cuba, raised in Russia. She is the go-to officer for them in wetwork and active measures. She is an excellent marksman, and as much as I hate to say it, well-versed in hand-to-hand combat." As I rattled on, I thought about the last time we met, about three years ago, when I broke my wrist after she pushed me down the stairs while we fought for an intel. I refrained from mentioning this, however, as I didn't want them to think that I was incompetent.

"Now, we know that K-D has tons of great agents. What makes Maria different is that she's willing to do anything, and I mean, _anything_, to get her intel. She will torture you, murder your family, sleep with a target, anything. She's like the complete agent. The complete assassin." I stopped, looking down at my notebook. Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to meeting this bitch again.

The room was quiet. It felt ominous. And I had a feeling the bad news will keep coming.

Dominic cleared his throat. "Thank you, Susannah. That is precisely what Espinosa seems to be doing, pretending to be in love with Felix in order to get information for that."

Pretend to be in love to get intel? I could do that. Sleep with a random strange man to get intel? Not a chance in hell.

It's probably why I'll never be half the agent that Maria is. Being an agent has to mean not owning a conscience, surely. It's why she's so good at what she does.

"What is working in our favour is that it seems that while Espinosa has successfully infiltrated into Diego's inner circle, she has yet to obtain the codes. While Diego possessing the codes is dangerous, we absolutely cannot afford to let them fall into the hands of K-Directorate. We've received word that Diego will be holding a grand celebration of the 10th anniversary of his auto enterprise - cover for his illegal operations - at his estate in Moscow. I'm sending both of you, Susannah and Jesse, to first conduct a surveillance on Diego and his team, and during the celebration, infiltrate and acquire the codes. It is believed that K-Directorate will also make a move during the celebration. It is imperative that we get the codes before they do."

I felt my heart pounding. Though Dominic didn't say it, I knew the implication of his words. If it happens that Maria got to the code before we do, we'll have to fight her for it. _I_ will have to fight her for it.

As I was trying to rein in my panic, Carl stood up, taking over from Dominic.

"I know, I know, infiltrating a Russian mafia's circle is never easy." Carl smiled at me, and I felt the heaviness in my heart lifted a little. Trust Carl to always know how to make things feel better, even with his awful ties.

He clicked on the remote, and yet another picture flashed. This time it's of a handsome man with brown hair, and arresting blue eyes. He had a slightly arrogant expression on his face. Attractive face. God, Suze, get a grip. When you start thinking a criminal is attractive perhaps it's time to get laid, or quit the CIA.

I actually think it's easier for me to quit the CIA than to get laid these days. But I digress.

I looked at the information besides his picture. Paul Slater. Current employer: Felix Diego. Affiliation: Unknown.

Unknown. That doesn't sound good.

"So we have zeroed in someone who we believed can let us in. He's Diego's security director, and he's currently looking for someone to add to Diego's security detail. The last man who worked for Diego was killed."

"Protecting Diego?"

"Actually, killed by Diego himself." Carl smiled ironically at Jesse's question. Jesse and I exchanged a look. It wasn't planned, it just happened. Both of us quickly looked away, but I had to admit, it was nice to know that we were on the same wavelength.

"So Jesse, I'm sorry to put you in the firing line but you will be the person who will be in Diego's security detail. We'll make sure the other applicants aren't successful, and Diego will have no choice but to hire you due to the impending celebration." Carl handed Jesse a file. "Here's your cover."

"What about me?" I asked.

"You'll be taking a backseat on this one, Suze," Dominic answered. "Jesse will be the face of the operation, and you are to provide backup to him. If, however, things don't go as planned, you have my permission to be in the forefront. I trust the both of you will make the right decision."

Jesse glanced at me, as if he was expecting me to start protesting. The truth was, I had no problems with that. For once, I don't mind sitting in a van somewhere, relaying the security camera feed while Jesse does the heavy work.

I swear I'm not a coward!

I seem to be denying a lot of things these days.

After Jesse and Carl had discussed further details about the operation, the meeting adjourned. Dominic asked me to stay. When the door closed, he turned to me.

"Susannah, are you alright? Can you perform this mission? I can find someone else if you don't think you can -"

"Hold up, hold up," I interrupted him, even though it is totally rude to do so, I know. "Who says I can't do it? I am perfectly fine with this. I can do it."

Dominic looked at me hesitantly. "Well, your history with Maria Espinosa might prove to be a hurdle. I'm not saying you cannot do the mission, but lately it seems your mind is elsewhere and I really want to know if I can trust you on this."

I paused, wondering how much I should tell him. In the end I relented. A little. "Alright, you're right. I'm not very happy with the idea that I might have to meet Maria again. But don't worry, if everything goes well, I won't even have to see her. It will be fine. I promise, I will do my best for this mission."

Dominic seemed to accept my assurances, but he still said sternly at me, "Please don't give Jesse a hard time. I know you and him haven't been on good terms, but I hope you can put your personal feelings aside."

I laughed. "Dominic, I really can't be bothered to give him a hard time anymore. Really." I realised it was true, to my surprise. I guess being angry at Jesse was too tiring. I'd rather spend all my energy telepathically telling ghosts to stay away.

To his credit, Dominic didn't look as confused as I thought he would at my flip-flopping behaviour. He just said, "Good", and stood up. I stood too, turned to walk to the door, then stopped. Something was bugging me.

"Dom, this Paul Slater person. Do we have more information about him? It's just, you know, 'affiliation, unknown'...?"

"We don't, unfortunately. But it doesn't matter. The target for now is Diego. We will focus on Slater later, if we have to." Dominic smiled, and exited the room.

He was right, as usual. I looked at Slater's picture again, included in our briefing notes. There was something untrustworthy about him.

But like Dominic said, it doesn't matter. My business is now with Diego. And Maria. Especially Maria. I have a score to settle with her.

She may have won the last time we met, but I'll be damned if I let her win again.

* * *

**Wow. So. Hi! I know it's been years, literally years, since I last updated. But today I found my old notebook with all the notes for this fic and I just thought to myself, why not? Even if no one's reading this anymore, the least I could do is try to finish it. I can't guarantee that I will finish this fic, but I do want to try to keep writing it. I've decided to fast forward to the crux of the fic, hence why Mr Summer of Carmel made a cameo here. **

**I haven't touched any of the Mediator books in ages, so my apologies if the characters seem a little off.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

**Much love, Aina**


	12. Page 12

**Los Angeles**

"Hey, you."

Cee Cee flopped onto my bed, looking a little forlorn. I was standing in front of my closet, trying to pack for the trip to Moscow and not being successful at it. I looked at Cee Cee, recalling that she hadn't said much during dinner. With a small jolt, I realised that I haven't properly talked to her since coming back from Paris. It wasn't intentional, of course, but it didn't mean that I didn't feel guilty about it.

"Hey Cee. What's up?"

"Not much. Perpetually confused about my boyfriend, but what else is new?"

I cringe inwardly, hit with another realisation - I had neglected to continue looking into Connor's shady behaviour in light of the whole ghosts-coming-back thing. Maybe I should sit down, organise this shambles I call my life and write a To Do List.

_1. Avoid ghosts._

_2. Stop being mean to people at the office, and by people I mean Jesse._

_3. Investigate Connor._

_4. Eat more greens._

_5. Stop watching Cupcake Wars, it's not helping with number 4._

I sat down on the bed next to Cee, who was lying on her stomach, picking at my blanket. "How is Connor?" I asked.

"Fine. Secretive, as usual, but other than that - swell." She sighed.

I had a feeling she wanted to say more, but perhaps she just wasn't ready. I looked at my open closet, then at the pile of clothes I'd thrown haphazardly into the luggage bag. I didn't feel like packing.

It was lame, but yeah, I admit I was a little concerned that in less than 48 hours I might be face-to-face with the Almighty Bitch Maria Espinosa again. It's definitely not in my To Do List, ever. Plus, seeing Cee so down like this, it made me even more guilty having to travel and leave her alone. It wasn't the first time I'd done it, sure, but I just didn't feel good about the trip this time.

"You know what? Screw this!" I said, my mind made up. I stood and tossed whatever it was in my hand into my closet, then shut the doors. "Let's go get a drink. My treat."

Cee looked up, surprised. "But you have to pack."

"I can do that after we come back. You need a pick-me-up, I wouldn't mind a glass of cobble hill myself, so let's go!" I grabbed my purse and headed out of my bedroom, ignoring Cee's protests about having to turn in early for work the next day. But when I reached the front door I saw her rushing to follow me, her coat already on and her purse in her hand, looking considerably perkier than she been ten minutes ago.

The night was cool, a few breezes now and again but comfortable. We made our way to our favourite hangout, The Varnish, a few blocks away from our apartment. A classy little cocktail bar, it wasn't the usual rowdy sports bar or noisy band-of-the-week club, but not too trendy that a few drinks would cause a hole in our pockets.

The dark interior of the bar was pleasantly warm, with chatters coming from people sitting on wooden booths under Depression-era decoration and music coming from the piano in a corner, played by the bar's regular musician. Being a workday, the place was peppered with post-work crowd, men and women in suits and work clothes. We made our way to the bar, and as it wasn't full, took a couple of seats there and ordered our drinks.

As we waited, I casually looked around, mentally filing the exits and testing the atmosphere of the room, just in case. It was something I always do whenever I enter a public place, ingrained in my training and hard to let go.

"You're doing that thing again." Cee said, in a kind of sing song tone.

I turned to her, confused. "What thing?"

"That thing, where you look around, like you're trying to see if your ex is around, or if your loan shark is coming to get you, or if your high school principal is about to give you detention." She laughed, but there was curiosity in her violet eyes. Typical journalist.

"Typical journalist," I said, voicing my thoughts. "I was just looking around, what's wrong with that?"

"Uh huh," Cee sipped her drink, her expression suggesting she didn't believe a word I said.

"Fine. I was looking for a rich old man to be my sugar daddy so I don't have to slave away at the firm until I'm 60. Happy?" I rolled my eyes and took a large gulp of my colourful drink. Wow, that is strong. I should pace myself. Despite our latest truce, Jesse would definitely have my head if I were to turn up all hungover for the trip tomorrow. Although the idea of being on a flight with Mr Serious All Day All Night made me want to down a few bottles first, if I was being honest.

As if she'd read my mind, Cee said, "Right, sugar daddy. Even though you already have that sugar guy at work. That really hot one."

I scoffed. "You haven't even met him! Sugar. _Please_."

"So why are you blushing?"

"I am not." My face felt hot though.

"You are. You so are!"

"I blushed only because you said I was blushing! If someone said you were blushing, you'd blush! Duh." Yet why did I feel like I was lying to myself.

"Someone's living in denial city!" Cee Cee laughed, her blonde hair shimmering under the lights. I saw the bartender glancing appreciatively at her, and saw my escape route.

"The bartender is checking you out," I whispered, leaning closer to her.

As expected, Cee stopped laughing, her body suddenly ramrod straight. "No, he's not." She never seemed to realise how pretty she was, reacting to male attention with some degrees of denial and self-consciousness. It was like she could only accept men who were attracted to her because of her brains, not her looks.

"He so is. He's cute, too." He wasn't, really. "You should make him your Plan B, your backup to Connor."

At the mention of his name, Cee's shoulders dropped. I mentally chided myself for bringing him up, when I was supposed to make her forget about him. She sighed, for like the tenth time today. "Yeah, I guess I should. I don't know if he'll be my Plan A for long, anyway. Did I tell you I found him snooping on my laptop?"

I nearly spat out my drink. "What? How? What did he say when you saw him?"

Cee Cee shrugged. "He said he only wanted to Google something for his book, and his laptop was updating the software or whatever so he couldn't use it. But when I looked at my laptop later, one of the tabs had my Gmail open and I swear I haven't logged on to my email that day."

But I checked him! And I couldn't find anything incriminating. Well, duh, smarty Suze, if he hasn't done anything but he _plans_ to, you're not going to find anything incriminating on him, are you? And you call yourself a covert agent!

"The funny thing is," Cee continued, "it didn't bother me as much as it would have before. I guess... I just don't feel as strongly about him as I did before."

I didn't know what to say. Well, no, I had a million things to say, but he was still her boyfriend and I didn't want to appear as if I hated him. She still cared for him, I could tell. But it pained me to see her unhappy. I reached out and covered her hand in mine. "Is there anything I could do? You want me to kick his ass? You want me to send dead pigeons to him? Tell me, I'll do it. If I get arrested I won't mention your name, but you'll have to bail me out." I said these in a very sincere voice, and I got the reaction I wanted - Cee Cee laughed. Then she stopped, and had a strange look on her face.

"Actually… well, there is something. You might think this sounds crazy... but would you come with me and spy on him? After you're back from your trip, of course."

My heart dropped at the 'word' spy, but I was more surprised than anything at her request. She saw it, and hurriedly continued, "Look, 'spy' is such an ominous word, I meant we could just follow him to see where he goes, maybe he has another woman, maybe he's dealing drugs, maybe he's a serial killer, you know, the one that's on the loose at Sunset Strip. Please?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Cee Cee, he's not a serial killer or a drug dealer. He's so vanilla! I mean, I'm sorry, but he is."

"It's the quiet ones we should watch out for, you know the drill!" She replied, a determined glint in her eyes that meant she had made up her mind and would go ahead with her plan, with or without me. She even waved off the vanilla comment, which meant she was really serious about this spying on Connor thing. "Come on, Suze, please? It'll be fun! We'll pretend we're Jason Bourne!"

I actually knew someone who was like Jason Bourne, except his name was Aaron Dallas. And let me tell you, his life was nothing to shout about. The thing was – okay, I admit that I had the same idea as hers, only I was planning to do it alone. But looking at Cee Cee, I knew that if I didn't go with her, she would do it by herself. And there was no way I'd let her do that, especially since I had no idea if Connor was after her, or after me.

"But Cee," I said slowly, no longer smiling. I didn't want to say it, but I knew I had to. "What if you don't like what you find?"

Cee Cee stirred her drink, avoiding my eyes. "Then at least I'll have a story to write about. If he's the Sunset Strip killer and we found him, wouldn't that be a scoop!"

She was putting on a brave face. I knew exactly how she felt.

– A. M. A. I –

**Moscow**

T-minus three hours to Diego's party.

Jesse and I were in the agency's safe house, an apartment near the Kozhukhovskaya subway station situated in the South-Eastern Administrative Okrug (District) of Moscow. Close to the south port, this area was mostly populated by warehouses and spaces for port cargo. There weren't many buildings for businesses or residences, so our operation should be free from intrusions.

After a relatively quiet flight – I wasn't hungover, thank God – we worked silently once we arrived at the safe house, setting up the comms and equipment for tonight. Yesterday, another agent had posed as a caterer and hacked into the electronic systems in Diego's house and the surrounding neighbourhood; the result was that we had total access to the security systems, cameras, alarms and automated gates. The plan was for Jesse to enter the party as an employee of Diego, while I would be monitoring from a van nearby.

The weight of the mission was starting to drag on me, the very idea that in a few hours I'll be looking at Maria again made me nervous – but it also invigorated me, keeping me focused. Jesse didn't make small talk, as if he could sense my state of mind.

Half an hour before we were to leave, Jesse went into the only bathroom in the casually-furnished apartment, carrying a change of clothes. I had my change of clothes in my bag in case I needed to infiltrate the party. In the meantime, I was kitted out in black turtleneck, black cargo pants and black military boots. My hair was in a ponytail, but I made sure to bring a ski cap and a pair of gloves as well. If anyone were to see me they might think I was a burglar; always a better option than being accused of being a spy.

Jesse stepped out in a crisply pressed white shirt, black tuxedo pants and black dress shoes, his hair nicely combed. He picked up a bow tie amongst his stash of clothes on the couch, moved to the mirror placed on the wall besides the front door and started tying the bow tie around his neck.

"Yes, Susannah?"

Oh shit, he caught me staring. He was looking at me through the mirror, his back still to me.

"Uh, nothing," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just - you know, do you need help with the - the bow tie?" Oh my God, shut up Suze, you don't know how to tie a bow tie! What are you doing!

Luckily for me, Jesse shook his head, giving a little smile. "It's alright, I'm good. Thank you for the offer."

I nodded, making sure to arrange my expression as if it wasn't a big deal and I make offers to tie bow ties all the time. God, I need to get a grip. And I need to stop staring at him, it's like I haven't been around men in ages or something. Also my mouth fart needed to stop. What I needed though, was a strong drink, thinking longingly of the sweet glass of cobble hill I had yesterday. Man, I hope Cee Cee was okay.

Shaking myself out of the inappropriate nostalgia trip during a crucial time like this, I started packing the equipment, double checking that I had everything and yes, deliberately making sure that I didn't look at Jesse. Unlike before, the silence between us felt a little awkward but before it got too much, the phone in the apartment rang. I answered as I was the closest to it; it was one of our contacts here who'll be driving Jesse to the party. I, of course, will be driving myself to Diego's house.

"Your ride's here," I informed Jesse, hanging up the phone and still not looking at him. "I'm heading off too." I picked up my bags, looking around to see that I hadn't left anything behind.

"How do I look?"

Well, it'd be rude not to look at him now, would it, since he'd asked? I was heading to the door when he asked, so I paused then turned around.

Jesse was standing there, now with his tuxedo jacket on and the bow tie perfectly tied, his arms spread, palms up in a _tada!_ gesture. He had an amused expression on his face, as if he expected an insult coming out of my mouth very soon. I bit my lip, cursing him for being so good-looking and cursing myself for noticing. It wasn't fair! Suddenly I felt like a slob in my turtleneck and baggy pants. I didn't even have makeup on, save for some powder and lip balm. So should I throw a snarky 'You look passable enough' or a genuine answer? Oh what the hell.

"You look really good. Really the part. I bet you'd fit right in with Diego's employees, based on the pictures we had of his team. Looked the part of the guests too." Wow, way to turn a compliment into something totally boring and factual, Suze.

But Jesse dropped his hands to his side, and if I wasn't mistaken, looked like he might burst out laughing. "An actual compliment from Susannah Simon?"

Hah, that's enough of that. He was now pushing it. "Yeah, sure, and since it's the only one you'll get this decade, I suggest you enjoy it."

He laughed, and I couldn't help but smile too, despite my best attempts to do the opposite. I had to admit, hearing him call me by my full name no longer annoyed me as it used to.

What was _happening_ to me?

We parted ways in the hallway; him to the elevator and me to the stairs which led to the back alley where the van was. We wished each other luck, and then I was alone. For now.

The drive to Pokrovsky Hills where Diego lived took 30 minutes, with light traffic along the way. The setting changed as I moved closer to the city centre; the difference between the rich and the poor clearer as I entered the famed Garden Ring and edged closer to Barrikadnaya where the Hills was located. Deemed 'the secret city', the area was exclusively for the elite crowd; billionaires who had somehow managed to amass a fortune from various businesses - legal or otherwise. Enormous green fences at least 20 feet high topped with security cameras surrounded the clusters of mansions in Pokrovsky Hills, which is filled with forests flanking the roads inside. To enter, you need to be a resident or a guest with your name already on the list.

I parked the van on Bolshaya Nikitskaya Street, 2 minutes away from the green fences of Pokrovsky Hills. The street was not a residential area, instead lined with churches and old, abandoned 19th century buildings. With trees on one side and a church on the other side of the street, I had enough cover for tonight.

Turning off the engine, I made my way to the back of the van. In place of chairs, the space had been converted into a mini surveillance room, not unlike a typical news van. Small televisions, a table and two laptops were on hand, so I began setting up my spying corner for the night while waiting for 8pm, which is when I was supposed to give Jesse a signal.

There were no problems hooking up the security camera feeds from the perimeter fences and from inside Diego's house to my laptop. At 8pm, I switched on the satellite comms in my earpiece and said, "All set up, Mountaineer," using Jesse's codename.

"Good, Freelancer," he replied, his deep voice as usual devoid of the high-pitched qualities in mine. "I'm entering the compound now."

Watching the feed from the comfort of the van, I saw Jesse enter the house. There was a small camera on the button of Jesse's shirt, so I was able to see him walk around _and_ see the room from his point of view. As he walked through the doors after being verified by the security guards, he came upon a huge entrance hall leading into an obscenely large ballroom, lavishly decorated and twinkling with lights and golden furniture. There were a fair few people already inside, looking distinguished in tuxes and gowns. Were they all criminals? Or were they innocents unknowingly fraternising with one? It was difficult to tell.

Jesse seemed to walk around, taking in the staircase leading up to the second floor and various doorways to other parts of the house. I didn't see any signs of Maria or Diego.

Then he turned and my heart jumped. _There_ she was. The back of her head, the arrogant posture, the laughter as she linked her arm with Felix Diego, playing the role of the perfect girlfriend. She was wearing a red backless dress, her dark curls cascading down her back. Her lips and fingernails also red, giving the impression as if she was dripping with blood. So dramatic, I know, but I was allowed to be, okay!

"It's her." I couldn't help saying, my skin crawling. My wrist throbbed - only in my imagination, but it was as if I could feel again the pain where she hit.

"Yes," was all Jesse said, as it would look weird if he were to be seen talking to himself. Obviously.

I watched as the camera moved closer to Diego and Maria. They were talking to the unknown guy in the picture given during our briefing, Paul Slater. As Jesse approached, they stopped talking. Diego actually seemed surprised.

"You're alone," Diego stated, his eyebrows raised. He turned to Slater. "Shouldn't he be with the others?"

Slater gave a smile and again, I had the feeling that he was someone who couldn't be trusted. Of course, the fact that he was working for a notorious criminal should be a clue to his trustworthiness, yet I couldn't help sense he was more than that. He shook Jesse's hand, his blue eyes icy cold despite the fact that he was smiling.

"I told Mr Cazorla to scout the security team as a guest first. Just wanted to see if he could do the job. You could say it was a test." I was slightly surprised to note that Slater sounded American; I had assumed that Diego would only hire within Russia. And did Slater's smile just turned cynical or was I being paranoid? "Well, Mr Cazorla? What can you tell us about Mr Diego's security? Are we safe?"

I listened as Jesse listed a few contentious security points around the house, my eyes on Maria. She was staring at Jesse, as if she was sussing him out. I itched to say something to warn Jesse, but I didn't want to distract him. Besides, he knew how to take care of himself. Diego looked suitably unimpressed once Jesse was done speaking. He whispered something to Slater then said to Jesse, "Well done. Slater will show you around the house."

Both Diego and Maria walked off. I felt torn, not wanting to let her out of my sight and yet I understood that Jesse had to take the tour in order to get a proper idea of the layout and security measures. As Slater gave Jesse the tour and introduced him to other members of the security team, I compared the interior layout of the mansion with the blueprint that I had with me and checked the feed of all the cameras.

"You know, I could've sworn I've seen you before."

I looked up and saw from my laptop screen that the two men were heading back to the massive ballroom. It was Slater who spoke. "Have you been to Italy? A couple of years ago, maybe?"

I had no idea if Jesse had any prior missions in Italy. I realised that there was a lot I did not know about him, which wouldn't be great for us in case of emergency. But the fact that Slater had questioned him made me uncomfortable.

"Unfortunately, not yet. But I would love to go. One day." Jesse answered easily, smiling.

Paul looked at him, that cynical smile (swear I wasn't paranoid!) back on his face. "Ah. Someone else, then. Although it's strange that everyone else who applied for this job withdrew, leaving you as our only candidate." He paused, apparently unwilling to go further but the implication of what he said was clear. He thought Jesse had resorted to dirty ways to get the job.

To his credit, Jesse shrugged it off. "I agree, it is strange. But not everyone is suited to this job like I am."

Paul laughed, as if he found what Jesse said terribly funny. I felt my skin crawling again. He then shrugged too, saying, "I guess you're right. Well, I'll leave you to it. Here's the radio, channel 2 for me and channel 3 for the rest of the team." He lined out Jesse's responsibilities for the night, then left.

After Slater was gone, I said, "Well done."

Jesse answered, cautious. "It's not over yet."

I was about to reply when I heard a sound outside the van. And it wasn't any sound.

It was the sound of a ghost materialising.

I held my breath, telling myself that I had imagined it. There was no way a ghost would appear now, not now. Not ever!

Then I saw a figure standing in front of the van, as if he had appeared out of thin air. As real as a living person but clearly, under the moonlight, glowing like a firefly.

And he was looking straight at me. Shit.

* * *

**I took some liberties with the locations in Moscow! Pokrovsky Hills is actually a nice neighbourhood mostly populated by expats - no mansions though. But there is a 'secret city' full of billionaire mansions, I just have no idea what it's called!**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)**

**Aina**


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